Thinking towards Victory
by radio-dammit
Summary: Amber Kwanee. The name that nobody knows. They call me Foxface, he calls me Foxie, I call myself dead. You want my story? Read it, I don't care, smear my life on the wall like a painting, but you have to remember me. Dead or alive.
1. Chapter 1

There he is, in all his glory. Standing there, holding his arms out for me. His brown eyes shine at me, looking wonderful, per usual, against his dark copper hair. I can't help it, I take a step towards him, into his arms. He holds me close. It feels good.

So quick that my fast reflexes can barely catch it, he catches my throat with a knife, softly pushing the cool medal to my throat.

"No!" I choke, barely audible.

"Sorry Amber." He whispers, and presses the knife into my throat, cutting off my life.

"Amber! Freaking wake up, you worthless girl! There's a reaping today, if you didn't know!" Sadell's voice wakes me from my nightmare. I roll out of my bed without meaning, and end up on the dirt floor of my house. _Not my house,_ I think, _THEIR house. _

I stand up, rubbing my side I'd fallen on. I walk over to the closet, where my reaping clothes are carefully set out. I strip out of my pajamas and slide into the satiny white dress that reaches my knees. Standing in front of the mirror, I try to run a comb through my thick mane of reddish hair, until quickly realizing it won't work, and tie it back in a big ponytail that sticks out behind my like a bushy fox tail.

_That's right. _I think, smiling slightly at my reflection._ Like a fox._ I'm aware that I look like a fox; it's just what happens with thick red hair, amber eyes, a long nose, and a crooked smile get put together. _Whatever._

Stepping into my leather shoes set out especially for the reaping, I walk out the door. The air is cold, like it usually is in District Five. I don't get cold, not usually, so I walk ahead nicely while other girls are hugging their arms close to their bodies.

I drift over to the other seventeens, make Smalltalk and flirt with the other teens my age. That's what reapings are for, right? Well, except for the two kids that go off to the Hunger Games, but that's beside the point.

Then I see Jesse.

I float over to him, slide into his waiting arms, shivering only slightly while remembering my nightmare. But Jesse would never do that to me. He loves me too much. I love him too.

"Hey Amber." He whispers in my ear.

"Hi" I breathe, resting my head on his nice chest. "Ready to be rrrrrrrreaped?" I make fun of our District 5 escort, Ladilla Torano.

"Ha, ha." He sounds sarcastic, but do I hear something else in his tone? Resentment, maybe? Fear? I slowly pull away from him, and slink over to some girls, compliment one of their dresses, laugh at their bad nervous jokes, but I'm still thinking about Jesse. What was that in his voice?

Then it hits me. Jesse's going to volunteer.

Just as my amber eyes widen, Ladilla takes the stage, bright pink ringlets bouncing and jewels clinking on her eyelashes as she blinks. "Ready to be rrrrrrrrreaped, District 5?" She screams, delivering her famous line out of her orange painted mouth.

The mayor makes his speech, and Ladilla is prancing toward the girl's bowl. She claws around and pulls out a slip from the bottom with her zippered nails. She reads out the name happily. "Amber Kwanee!" She shouts.

_Wait, what? _ I stopped short in my thoughts. The seventeens all stare at me as I step up onto the stage and look at the crowd. I catch Jesse's eyes. No way will he volunteer now if that meant going to the Games and possibly having to kill me. He shakes his head. Curse him! I'd been thinking about him too much to pray for my own safety from the Capitol. I smile at him to say d_on't worry. It's okay, _but he doesn't believe me, I can tell. It was more for me than him, anyway.

And I'm looking at Jesse so much that I miss the boy's name that Ladilla shrieks at the District. I should really stop thinking about him, it's making me miss important things. I'm completely clueless as to who got picked out of the boy's bowl, and I'm just standing there thinking _not Jesse, not Jesse_ over and over again.

But I needn't have worried. The boy who slowly walks onto the stage is one I've never seen. He's obviously younger than me, maybe 15 or so. He has creamy blond hair and a terrible complexion. The thought that I might have to kill him burns through my head as we are lead off the stage after getting our arms lifted by the wacko Capitol lady.

I am lead to a room in our Justice Building. It's a wide, spacious room and the closet is about the size of my room at home. _Not home. _I think yet again. My foster parents try their hardest, they really do, but it's a little obvious that they wish they'd never taken me in.

They don't visit me.

My first visitor is not who I want to see. It's not Jesse, as I'd hoped. It's actually my older brother, Christopher. He stands there, not willing to hold me in a hug, probably picking up my vibes of wanting, craving another person.

"Hi." He says. Hi? Hi? I've been reaped, I'm going to the freaking Hunger Games, and all he has for me is _Hi_?

"Hi." I say back.

"Mmm. Amber, I'm sorry, for, you know, everything." Christopher mutters before leaving early.

And the problem is, I _don't_ know. I don't know what he's sorry for. Is it that he left me with wicked foster parent while he lived nicely on his own? Is it that he's sorry that the male influence in my life is not him nor my "father", but Jesse? Is he sorry that nobody volunteered for me? That I'm getting reaped in general? There are so many things he could be sorry for; "everything" kind of summed it up.

Next enter my friends Tara and Riley. They both hug me awkwardly and say reassuring things. I don't know if they're for me or them, because I'm definitely not reassured. The rest of their visit passes in a blur, because all I want is Jesse.

He comes in next.

As he enters the room, I stand up and forget that I was angry with him at the reaping. All that's in the world right now is him, and his lovely face, and suddenly I'm really close to him and we're kissing, and kissing like we might never see each other again, which is true. I feel good in his arms, not happy, not safe, but good. I never want to leave his tight hold on me. But, finally, he pulls back and looks down at me.

"Amber, you have to come back." He says, like I don't already know that.

"No duh."

"I'm serious. So you have to have a strategy. I know you aren't the strongest, or even the most powerful. When you're in training, pick up a few fighting skills, but what you really need is knowledge. You might not win by fighting your way toward victory, but you can definitely think your way towards it. You're smart. Use your head when you're in that arena." He tells me. It's weird, I'm not going to lie, to hear my boyfriend telling me what my strategy in the Hunger Games should be.  
>"Mmm. Yeah. " I say. But I don't really want to think about the Games right now. All I want is Jesse. I lean in to kiss him again and he lets me for a little bit but then he stops.<p>

"Do you already have a token?" He asks.

I was about to respond with some cocky remark but then I realize that now isn't really the right time. So instead I just respond "No."

"Good." He says, smiling just a little bit. I stare into his dark eyes, trying to see what he means, but I find nothing. He's a naturally hard to read person. "I've got one for you."

My heart is racing, but I don't know why. But then Jesse pulls something from his pocket. "Hold out your hand," he instructs. I oblige, and stare at his hand as he holds mine in it and softly slides a ring onto my finger. When he lets go I look down at my hand. My _engaged_ finger has a ring on it with an almost microscopic diamond on it. I gasp and look up at Jesse, wondering if this means what I think it means.

It does. "Will you marry me, Amber? When you come back, I mean?" He asks. A single tear slides down my cheek as I say yes.

Then we are kissing again until a red-faced Peacekeeper ushers Jesse out in a tiny, embarrassed voice. My last memory of him is his face, his beautiful face, looking impossibly sad.

My life was Hell from that moment on.


	2. Chapter 2

**By the way, all you readers that I am very sure exist, I'm a guy. I just want to say that, because I realize that I sound like a girl when I write. So that was random, but I would like to just remind you of my gender. Mainly, this is also because some of my "girl" POV stuff is kind of bad because, well, I'm not a girl. **

**Haha. Now I sound sexist. Oh, and forgot to add on the last chapter: I don't own any books or characters or ideas from the Hunger Games, as you've probably guessed.**

I was lead onto a train. A big train. Like, a_ huge_ train. I like trains. But that's beside the point. I didn't get to admire the train because I kept thinking about Jesse and the Games and the ring that's heavy on my finger. I bet that the Capitol people will love to have an engaged tribute.

Once we're on the train, I get shown to another nice, big room with a fancy shower and everything. I ignore it all and climb into the bed when somebody enters my room quietly.

I sit up, quickly, glad that I'm fully closed. I have good enough vision, even in the dark, to see that there's a big figure, male probably, standing there, wondering if I'm awake. Not like I'll be able to sleep tonight.

"Yes?" I ask, trying to sound interested but sarcasm leaks through my tone.

"Terribly sorry. Did I wake you?" The man asks. He has a low, handsome voice that reminds me of velvet. Not that I really know much about velvet, anyway.

"No. Who are you?" Augh, my stupid voice! I try to make it casually skeptical, but I sound scared and much too young.

"I'm Michael, your mentor. May I turn on the lights?" He asks me.

"Sure." He flips on the lamp by my bedside. Michael has dirty blond hair that's cut expensively in shaggy disarray. He looks young, maybe five years older than me, but I honestly can't remember him winning the Games.

I make room for him on my bed. "How old are you?" There, I said it. Screw manners, I'm going to the freaking Hunger Games.

"Not one for introductions, are you?" He sounded wary, almost scared of me. When I'm silent, he continues. "I'm 23 years old. And you're sixteen, seventeen?" He asks.

"Seventeen." I reply.

There's an awkward silence between us before he says, "So, tell me about yourself."

"What?" This Michael confuses me.

"I need to know who you are, for angles in interviews, learn how I can help you in the games, and all." He answers.

Well this is going to be weird. "I'm Amber… I live with my two foster parents, I have a brother. Christopher. Friends, too. " I say, grudgingly not wanting to give this stranger any more information.

"Huh." He says. I can tell he wants more.

_More, huh? I'll give you more._

"Yeah… There's this guy, too."

"Really?" He's intrigued.

"Yes. Jesse." I say, then I make grandiose mistake of the year. I look quickly down to the ring I'm still not used to. This makes Michael look down at my hand as well, and I see his small smile. He's found what he wants, whatever that is.

"And what's that?" He asks me, smiling like an idiot. How did this guy win the Games? He just seems like a big dork to me.

"A-a ring." My usually confident voice stutters a little bit.

"From whom?" He's still grinning at me like a freaking Cheshire cat.

"Jesse," I whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

"I see." I can tell from his eyes that he's going to try to play this token to its fullest

"Please don't tell everybody in the nation."

He looks like somebody gave him coal for Christmas. "Okay… Alright. Then how about your angle as… Clever, cool, and snarky? You seem like you can pull _that_ off." I hear his annoyance.

"Whatever." I say passively, trying to ignore the tears in my eyes. But my voice betrays me again. Michael puts him arm awkwardly around me.

"I'm sorry, Amber. I know you, uh, probably _miss_ him and I shouldn't meddle. So, about your angle. Are you ready to be the first ever Hunger Games Fox?" Seriously, what the hell? I decide I don't like Michael. I push him away softly and he leaves.

I actually get to sleep.

I wake up the next day, and I'm a little scared for a second._ Where am I?_ Then the reaping, the train, Michael, Jesse, everything rushes back to me. I get stiffly out of the bed, and remember that I'm still in my reaping dress. I slip it off, and change into a t shirt and jeans supplied to me by the nice train dresser, stocked eerily with clothes my size. I don't even bother to shower. My hair is in the same bushy tail as yesterday, so I decide to leave it up. I look in the mirror before I get out into the hall.

I look terrible. Even though I slept a little last night, I have deep purple shadows under the eyes of which are the colour of my namesake. My face is ghost pale, paler than usual, which makes my hair look like it's on fire. _Whatever, _I think, which I've been thinking a lot lately, actually, _let their first impression of me be scary. _

I leave my room and glide into the narrow hallway when I realize I have no idea where to go. I start walking in one direction until I see an attendant, and ask him where the dining car is. He points me in a direction with a big grin on his face. What's with all the grinning men lately?

Anyway, I walk down the hall to the dining car, and sit down. Ladilla, Michael, the other tribute boy whose name I still don't know, and another man, probably his mentor, are already sitting down. I slide in to the booth next to the boy, receive a heaping plate of food which I wolf down, and listen intently to their conversation.

"Yes," Says Michael, "Here's our little star!" I have no idea what he means, so I just keep quiet.

"What's going to be _her_ angle?" The other mentor asks. "_Tommy_ is going to be a little nice boy." So the other tribute's name is Tommy. 'Little nice boy' somehow doesn't fit that stocky build of his, but I don't really care.

"Amber is going to be a fox." Michael announces, like that makes any sense whatsoever. Apparently it does to the other mentor, because he gasps and starts grinning. You never would have guessed these people were actually from District Five at one time.

Ladilla doesn't like not getting attention, so she clears her throat and shouts (I think she always shouts), "Ready to watch the rrrrrrrrreapings?" She asks loudly. I really don't want to watch them, but I guess I have to as another attendant wheels a TV in front of us.

I watch the reapings. The tributes don't look too bad. A pretty girl and boy from one, mammoth boy and creepy girl from two, dark skinned boy and girl who look really scared from three, classic career tributes from four. Our reaping is next. My name gets called and my face is like exactly what I felt right then: _Whaaat?_ Then I walk up to the stage and the camera goes between shots of me and Jesse. Somehow the figured out I was staring at him. I facepalm.

Then Tommy gets called, and District six reapings start.

I miss the tributes from six because I'm too busy thinking about how this reaping footage really ruins my "image". I push it out of my mind, and then realize that I missed the reapings from Seven as well.

_Well, crap,_ I think, as I watch a girl and boy from District eight get picked. They're nothing special, and neither are the District nine people. District ten has a girl with long braids and a boy with a crippled leg. _That's sad._ From Eleven there's this tiny girl about ¾ of my height and a rather large boy. I'm mulling this over when another little girl gets reaped from Twelve, but an older girl, maybe a little younger than me, volunteers for her, and informs the crowd that she's the little one's sister. A blond boy gets called next, and he walks up to the stage, and there's a flicker of recognition in the girl's eyes. _Huh._

Then I realize I'll have to fight these people and my stomach turns as our train pulls into the Capitol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so now I'm angry. WTF, DEDEBUG9? I start this story, publish two chapters, then you go off and freaking write a story with the EXACT SAME story line? That's just rude. I might just stop this stupid story. **

**Yep, I don't own this stuff. And heeeeeere's chapter three:**

The prep team is terrible. Three idiots, two men and one woman, determined to make me beautiful with their stupid Capitol accents and fashions. Their names? Rodioso, Amaliana, and Edon. First, they'd ripped up my legs until they were completely hairless, then they bathed me in some waxy crap, and now they're putting some nasty goop in my hair.

Did I mention that I had to be naked this entire time?

Finally, I'm allowed to meet my stylist. Not that I want to.

He walks in, this weird guy. He's got shaggy midnight hair that's obviously dyed, since his skin is really pale. His eyes are probably modified too, because they're also black. He's wearing some hipster stuff, like checkered skinny jeans and a black shirt. What a geek.

"G'day. My name is Alnodo." The hipster. Geez. He's got the glasses for it and everything. And then I'm just standing there, naked, while this hipster freak just _looks_ at me.

This is the first guy that's ever seen me like this. Naked, I mean. Jesse and I, well, we're _modest._ It's not like… Never mind. So this is really awkward, this hipster that's just staring at me, naked. Finally, I just cross my arms over my chest (which is rather large, I'm just saying) and say, "Well?"

He looks like I've smacked him. "Errr… Uh.. Yes. You look… Nice." His face is beet red. _So there, _I think, _let him be embarrassed._

"Huh." I say, rather un-amused. "So where's my lab coat for the chariot ride?" What? It's not like he's going to put me in anything creative this year.

I forgot how much of a hipster Alnodo is. "Actually," He says in the annoying way only male fashion designers can talk, "I was thinking more along the lines of dressing you up as the _mutations_ from your district, instead of the scientists.

I can't help it. I crack up. "You're dressing me up as a mutt?" I say.

"Well, yes. But, like, for you, maybe some sort of _foxish_ mutt, because, you know, you kind of look like a fox and everything.

I sigh. This is not going to be pleasant.

Later, we are at the chariots, minutes away from going on the lovely costumed ride through the bright streets of the Capitol.

I claw at my costume, which, as I guessed, is extremely embarrassing. The Hipster (I've taken to calling him that now) has dressed me up in fox ears, and a close-fitting neck to ankle costume coloured to look like a fox. The whole twist is, I'm supposed to be a mutation, a half-human, half fox girl, since District Five is all about mutations and science.

At least Tommy looks worse. He's dressed the same as me, but he's supposed to be a wolf. Standing next to eachother on the chariot, we look almost comical, we're so different looking. He has a stocky build and his creamy hair, while I have my mountain of curls and a tall, long limbed build. I'm also at least a head taller than him. I can see the pretty girl and boy from District One snickering at us as we stand on our white chariot with our greyish horses.

The music starts, and the pretty tributes' chariot leaves, dazzling the crowd with their bejeweled costumes. I can hear the crowd screaming their names, and it hurts my ears. The chariots are leaving fast, and before I know it, I'm out in the streets of the Capitol, and the citizens are looking at me oddly, like they don't know what to make of me. So, their eyes just slide right over me and Tommy and they begin cheering for District 6's tributes.

I'm a little sad, but at the same time, kind of glad that nobody is staring at me. I wonder what Jesse will make of me in this ridiculous costume. I can imagine him snickering at me right now.

The crowd multiplies it's cheering by about three as the District twelve tributes enter the parade. I look to see why and I'm dazzled. There's those two kids, holding hands and flaming.

God, I wish I had their stylists.

No matter, because people are staring at them more, and not me. I look over at Tommy, and I notice that he's frowning, like he can't believe we aren't getting the same reception as District Twelve.

Confident that there are no cameras on me, I pat his shoulder and say, "Don't worry, you should be glad you're not on fire." He looks up at me, and I have no idea why he's glaring at me, so I look up just as the National Anthem begins. The cameras pretend to get a shot of all of us, but honestly, I'm on screen with Tommy for about a second, as all the other tributes are, except for the flaming couple at the rear of the group.

Soon, we are in our rooms at the Training building, which is this giant building for housing us before the Games. My room alone is probably bigger than the house I lived in back in District Five.

I try to wash off the creepy makeup The Hipster has put me in, scrubbing off the heavy black eyeliner and maroon lip gloss. I take my hair out of the fancy bun he's put it in, and return it to the usual tail, before falling asleep in the huge bed they've given me.

I wake up the next day with a monster headache. Ladilla is knocking at my door, screaming at me to get up and get dressed. I look down, only to find out that I'm still in the ridiculous Fox costume, so I slither out of it and get into the first thing in the dresser: A dark blue tunic and white leggings. Augh, what these Capitol people think looks good. It sickens me.

I open my door, only to be attacked by Ladilla, dragged into the dining room, and served a giant plate of breakfast. I eat quickly, and don't even look up until my plate is empty.

"So, today's your first day of Training!" Ladilla shouts at Tommy and I, which makes my head hurt even more. "Are you excited?"

Tommy nods and I don't say anything. Then, we're ushered downstairs to the Training Center, and Ladilla whisks off, leaving us to train.

Tommy gasps when he sees the maces and other deadly weapons, and runs over to learn how to use them. I almost follow him when I remember Jesse's advice. _Pick up a few fighting skills, but what you really need is knowledge. _So instead, I walk over to the fire starting section. I learn how to start a fire using almost nothing. This will be helpful, or at least it _would_, if fires didn't give off smoke. So I abandon that section and go to knot tying. As I get there, the two kids from Twelve are just leaving, chattering happily. They're the only two District partners that are sticking together. I notice, absentmindedly, that they're avoiding the fighting sections as well, and wonder why.

Then it's lunch time. The careers are already becoming best friends, and sitting together in one mean bunch, but everyone else is kind of sticking to the sides, alone. Except for the two from District Twelve, who are still together. I wonder why.

I pick a spot to eat, not off in a corner like a loner, but right smack next to the Career Table. They shoot a few glares at me, but mostly ignore me. I catch the boy from District 7 looking at me from a shadowy corner and I flip him off quietly. This is going to be fun.

The days of Training go on like that. I pick up a few knife skills, a little sword fighting, but mostly survival skills. By the last day, I've been to all of the stations at least twice except for the Edible Plants, but I can figure that out on my own pretty easily. Right?

Today, lunch is different, quieter than usual. Slowly, each tribute is getting taken off to show the Gamemakers what they can do. As Tommy leaves, I start to worry. What am I going to do? It's not like I have a ton of really good fighting skills, and I can't just make a couple knots, but a high score is something I'm really going to need. Jesse's voice rings in my ears, _Think your way toward victory._ I am called. I walk shakily out the door and look into each one of the Gamemaker's eyes.

"Hello." I say to them. They look confused that I'm not diving towards the deadly weapons, as the careers surely have been doing for them. They are silent. "I'm Amber." They are starting to look bored. I walk slowly over to the knife section, and take a good looking, sharp one. "Nice knife. Sharp blade, nice and shiny." I comment, walking over and showing it to them. Then, as fast as I can, I sprint over to behind them, put the Head Gamemaker in a headlock, and put a knife to his throat. "You're dead." I say cheerfully, letting him down and walking back to the middle of the floor.

"Thank you." He says, rubbing his neck, looking at me warily. I slink out the door, flipping my tail out behind me happily.

**Does it sound too much like Katniss's exit? I don't know… It kind of sounds like it, but the main thing is that Amber does that not out of anger, but to show them how she can be quick, agile, and smart. **

**You should review this. There's a button riiiiiiight below, all you have to do is press it and write "ZOMG IT'S SO GOOD!" So yeah…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, I still don't own the Hunger Games (Duuuuh).**

**And my apologies to DEDEBUG9, I'm sorry I blew up at you. **

**This one's a little dark later, I'm just warning you. **

**OH YEAH I'm working on another fanfic about the guy from District Three. I haven't posted it yet, but look for it soon. **

I go back to my room cheerfully, and sit down on the nice bed. One of those creepy silent attendants comes in, probably to make my bed, but then scurries away when she realizes that I'm in the room. That's fine by me.

I let my hair down, something I barely ever do because of it's potential to strangle me in a thick, fiery, rope, and lay down. I wonder what score I'll get. I didn't do anything super fancy, just a little trick to show them that I can live up to my Foxlike looks. Maybe I'll get a six. You know, training isn't half bad, and neither is the Capitol, really. I could like this experience if I wasn't being trained for the Hunger Games.

And that reminds me. The interviews are soon, the day after tomorrow. I remember the first night I met Michael, on the train, when he described me as "the first ever Hunger Games fox". Without thinking, I touch the ring on my finger.

Interviews mean having to wear one of The Hipster's creations. I wonder what he'll dress me in this time. Geek glasses and a white button down? A fake fox-fur dress? The possibilities are endless and I don't want to think of them. My room starts to feel a little depressing, so I step into the hall and sit out there. One of the silent attendants hands me a book. I don't have the heart to tell her that I can't read.

What? I can't read, so what? The way schooling works in District Five is like that. In Kindergarten you choose whether you want to follow science, mutations, or other works. The Science students are taught how to read and write and learn everything there is to know about science. The Other Works kids are taught shop keeping and things like that. The Mutations kids are taught about DNA and animals and numbers and things like _that_. I decided on Mutations. They never taught us to read.

I soon get bored sitting around so I get into the elevator to go somewhere. There are a few floors at the very top of the building for the tributes to hang around in. But my fingers linger not on those room floors, but on the very top number. I've never been there. I want to know what it is.

The elevator moves quickly upwards. Before the Games, I'd never ridden on an elevator, and when I did for the first time, I'm not going to lie; I got a little motion sick. But now I'm actually pretty used to it, maybe I even enjoy riding elevators a little bit.

The elevator doors slide open, and I step out. This floor is nothing, just a small little room with a heavy metal door set in the yellowish wall. I open the door and immediately feel a breeze wave through my thick half-curls.

I step out onto what must be the roof. It looks amazing from up here. I can see _everything_! There are bright lights and bright buildings even though it's only four PM and everything is just so amazing.

"Lovely, isn't it?" says a voice behind me. I turn quickly, and see a boy there, maybe a year older than me. I recognize him as the one from District Seven. I don't know his name, so I just stare at him, my curls blowing in the breeze.

Then I realize he's waiting for an answer. "Yes." I silently curse myself for saying such a stupid answer. How did this guy sneak up behind me, anyway? I've got the best hearing anywhere. Or maybe I don't.

He smiles at me, amused, and then steps so he's leaning on the railing, next to me. "I'm Josh, by the way." I look up at him. He doesn't look like he's trying to flirt, just trying to make an ally for the Games. Little does he know, Amber the Fox works alone. But he doesn't need to know that. I can have a friend for a few days.

"Amber," Is all I say. Then, something causes me to say, "Do you think you're ready? For the Games, I mean?" One look at his face tells me that this was the wrong thing to say.

"I don't think I was ever ready, personally." He says quietly, not looking at me, "But we all have to do this, since we all got reaped, anyway."

"I know what you mean." I say truthfully, or so I think.

"Do you? Are you the oldest of five siblings that rely on you for almost everything? Are you the only thing that keeps your best friend from killing himself? Are you eighteen, almost out of the Hunger Game's grasp? Are you about to propose to the girl you love?" He asks, shouting by the end.

My voice sounds hollow as I try to make a joke. "I don't fall in love with girls very easily."

He doesn't laugh or even _look_ at me, so instead I say, "But I am engaged." I look down at my ring yet again.

He finally looks at me. "So you know how it feels to know that you have to win, but there's so much in your way?" He asks me, in a tone I can't place.

I look directly in his dark brown eyes with what I hope is a steely gaze, and I say directly to him, "I don't think, if you really want it, that there's anything in your way." Then I turn on my heels and get in the elevator to press the big number Five when he holds the door open and slips in. His dark hair partially hides the light brown skin of his face, but I can see a tear tracking its way down his cheek. He presses the Seven button and the doors slide shut.

"Excited to find out your training score?" He asks, like we hadn't just been discussing our own possible deaths.

"I don't know, really. I have no clue of what it'll be." I say with a laugh.

"Well, I'm not. I don't think I impressed them very much." He replies. I'm itching to know what he did for them, but I think that would be a weird question.

But I had no need for that, because he answered my question himself. "They didn't look very impressed with me lobbing the head off a couple dummies with an axe." Of course he uses an axe, he's from District Seven, all about trees and lumber.

"At least you know how to use _some_ sort of weapon!" I exclaim. He looks at me funny, like he can't believe I don't know how to use a weapon. "What?" I ask him.

"Sorry, you just look like… somebody who could bust a head using just about anything, really." His face has two spots of red that are growing quickly.

"Huh." I say, as the doors open on floor 7. He gets out of the elevator.

"See you at the interviews, I guess." He says.

"Yeah." I nod at him, and the doors glide closed.

I sigh. All these people, all the wonderful kids I could be great friends with, are going to be tossed into an arena with me with one instruction: kill all the others.

And I'm going to have to win.

As I walk into the dining room on our floor, Ladilla, Tommy, Michael, and Tommy's mentor are all clustered around the TV. The training scores are on.

"Amber! You've already missed District One and Two! Get over here!" Michael hisses at me. I hop over to the small couch just as the boy from District Three's score, 5, fizzles away and the girl's score is on. She gets a 3.

The District four boy and girl both get 6's. Then, Tommy shows with a four, and then a picture of me with a big shiny eight below me. An eight! This causes me to not see District six, again. I wince.

Then the picture of District Seven's boy, Josh, flashes with a seven. Good for him. Then the picture of his District Partner shows up with a five. They are pretty generic pictures of us, but it makes everyone look better than they actually look in real life.

District eight is pretty good, but neither tribute ever struck me as unique, and now their training scores are both sixes.

District nine gets a 3 and a 2, which is pretty sad, but District ten isn't too much better. But then the District Eleven tributes, the huge boy and the teensy girl, they both get big eights. That tiny girl, winning an eight! And then there's District Twelve, with an eight for the boy (I'm tying with so many people it's sad) and a freaking eleven for the girl! But she's a small thing, what could she possibly do to get that eleven? I'll keep an eye out for her. Then the anthem plays, and the screen goes dark.

Nobody says anything for a while, and then Ladilla claps her hands and shouts, "Wow! An eight! Good job Amber and Tommy!" Neither of us mentions that Tommy actually got a four.

Michael stands up. "Yes, yes. Congratulations. I will see you all tomorrow. Amber, be ready to be taught on interview basics!" I hate that guy.

So I follow Michael down the hall and disappear into my room. Then, for the first time since being reaped for the Hunger Games, I dream.

In the dream, I am standing in a huge field of wildflowers, alone. The day is sunny, but not unpleasantly so. Just the type of weather that District Five never gets. I lay down, in the warm grass, flowers tickling my chin, and smile. Then I hear footsteps. I turn, and there, of course, is Jesse, smiling at me with a picnic basket. I sit up, and open the basket. Inside is, well, a picnic. We start to eat, and talk about everything that's happened, everything besides the Hunger Games, which is just fine with me.

But suddenly, that giant boy from District Two jumps out of a hovercraft and puts Jesse in a headlock and holds a knife to his throat, just as I did to the Gamemaker. But the boy drags Jesse away from me, forever.

Then I wake up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Yo everybody. Sorry I haven't updated for a while, I've been busy. Well, okay, lazy. But still. I'm getting kinda bored of writing pre-games stuff, so this chapter will pass fast, I'll do an interview chapter, and then it'll get fun. Reviews are great, and I want to thank all two of my reviewers so far. Well, really, one reviewer, but thanks anyway, Cerulean_ Apocalypse. **

**And by the way, I made a mistake in whatever chapter when I said interviews will be the day after whenever, so it's fixed in this chapter.**

I sit up in the bed, breathing heavily. Another nightmare. Those things aren't pleasant, I assure you.

I stare at the clock, waiting for it to come into focus with my tired eyes. I'm not surprised that the bright green letters portray 2:13 and I'm not tired at all. I try to lie back down and fall asleep again, but to no avail. So instead, I get up out of my bed and turn on the light.

_Man, I wish I could read. _ I think, looking down at the discarded book on the floor that the servant had given me earlier. It's probably a very good book. I wonder what it's about. Probably some far off land with money flowing through everybody's hands like it's nothing and everybody is happy. Like the Capitol. No, not like the Capitol, because the people in the book wouldn't demand children to be killed for their entertainment.

I get up and throw the book at my yellow painted wall, hoping it'll make a satisfying thump. It does. I'm about to go on a total wreck-everything rampage, but something stops me. I order some sort of strong drink, from the lovely menu on my wall. A Capitol attendant comes and gives it to me with a disapproving look. I down it quickly, and drink a refill that he brings me. I'm about to order a third when I see something shiny on the brown shaggy carpet. I kneel down and pick it up. It looks like a jewel, something that could have come right off of District One's chariot costumes. I turn the centimetre green jewel around and around in my hand. I wonder what it came from. My fingers itch to draw it, which is weird, because drawing isn't really my thing. It used to be, back before I started only doing practical things. I used to love the sound, the smell, the feel, of pencil on thick, creamy, paper.

Now I want to draw. I search around my room for a pencil, and find one in a little cup on the bedside, all sharp and everything. Paper is harder to find. I look around and around in my room, until finally I give up. I sit down on the bed with a huff when my eyes land on the book lying in the corner. I walk over, flip it to the back, and find about five empty pages. I smile and sit back down on my bed, and begin to draw.

Thinking about it later, I couldn't tell you what I planned to draw, or even what went through my mind as I drew. All thoughts kind of melted out of my mind, like I took some sort of super awesome drug. Not that I've ever tried drugs… As far as you know.

ANYWAY, after who knows how long, I looked down at the paper to see what I've drawn. As it turns out, I've worn the sharp pencil down to a nub with all the cross hatching, shading, heavy lines, and dark shadows I drew. But what was on the paper? Well, I'm not exactly sure. It was a boy, with black hair almost covering his dark eyes. He has long limbs, and his knees are bent, like he's kneeling. But he's not on the ground. No, this boy has great, white wings soaring out of his back and catching wind that I could almost feel on my face. He's flying through a thunderstorm, as you can tell by looking at the dark clouds and lightning my pencil has depicted.

It really looks like crap.

Then I glance at the clock. It's freaking 4 AM. I don't know how time always slips away from me like that. Sadell always tells me it's probably because I have something like ADHD or whatever. I don't believe her. She's always trying to diagnose me with some disease, but I'm just me.

I'm just Amber.

I lay back down in the bed, and finally get to sleep, dreamless.

"Amber!" Pounding on my door. Just like my pounding headache. _ Boom. Boom. Boom._ It hurts my head.

I look around, and see that my light is still on. And my drawing is on the bedside table. So it wasn't a dream. Huh.

"Amber! I seriously will come in there if you don't answer me!" The voice says again. _Boom. Boom._

Did I drink last night? I don't feel too good.

Then it floods me. Drinking. Drawing. Throwing the book against the wall. And now this voice, and this loud pounding on the door.

"Last chance, Amber! I don't care if you're naked or anything!" Am I naked? I look down. Nope. Just… in underwear and a tank top. Oh.

"I'll give you three seconds. I really don't want to barge in." The voice. Oh! Michael! I should respond, but my mouth doesn't move right.

"One…" He says. Augh!

"Two…"

Then I finally croak out, "I'm here!" and the pounding stops. My head still hurts. I get out of bed slowly and put on some pants before opening the door. Michael's angry face turns sad when he sees me. Am I really that much of a mess?

"Amber! We're waiting for you in the dining room. Uhhh… No offense, but you look like Hell." He says to me.

I trudge past him and into the dining room, where I drink a big mug of black coffee, which clears my cloudy head.

"So it's interview day!" Ladilla screams at me. I cover my ears and look over at Tommy. He avoids my gaze. Wow, I seriously need a mirror. So I glance at my reflection in the steel coffee pot.

Woah. My hair seriously looks like fire, it's standing up so weirdly, and my eyes are like… unfocused looking. My cheeks bright red, my face pale white, I look like a freaking _weirdo._

So I leave the dining room and take a long, hot, shower, scrubbing myself head to toe. I take care in what I put on, so I choose a white button down, black jeans, sneakers that were quite available to me, and geek glasses (It's like I'm taking lessons from The Hipster). I put my tail back, per usual, and walk out of the door, only to be tackled by Michael.

"Ready for the interview training?" He asks. I groan. He just grins at me in that stupid way of his.

"So, we've already figured out your angle… Like a fox, right? Micah's going to have to think up a new angle for Tommy. But enough of that. Let's practice the interview, darling." He sounds like a rapist.

I just blink at him.

He clears his throat. "Maybe," he says, "I should just tell you what you should _do_ first."

I blink at him.

"So, like, since you're supposed to be super smart and cunning and all that, look like you're making note of every tribute as they're interviewing." Okay, I'll be doing that anyway, but I guess now I'll be making a big show of it. Woot.

So I blink some more. This is really aggravating him, I can tell.

"And then, during your ACTUAL interview, uh… just… Act like a clever, funny, sarcastic girl. _Like I' m not already that._

"Good help." I comment.

Michael's face turns all red and blotchy. "Sorry, I'm no good at this training stuff." Good to know.

"So I guess I'm getting no help in the arena?"

He doesn't like this. He gets up and walks out of the room.

Good thing I'm smart.

'**Kay. So it's kinda sorta (Okay, pretty) short, but the next one will be all cool and stuffs. **

**And about that District Three Story, I've decided to turn it in to a poem. It'll be called "Potential" and I'll upload it tomorrow or the next day. **

**REVIEW PLEEEEEASE**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for the reviews, people, but I'd just LOVE more of them!**

…**That sounded creepy. Anyway, you deserve a nice long chapter, so heeeeere it is:**

"Ready to see your interview outfit?" The hipster asks me, smiling. I just watched him warily.

He carries out this bag on a hanger, like the ones they use for wedding dresses. _Oh, God, he's not going to put me in a wedding dress, is he?_ I think, and watch him unzip the bag.

Oh, it's not a dress. But it's not a mutation outfit, either.

Nope, The Hipster is putting me in black legging, brown lace-up boots, a white button-down with a dark green and silver tie loosely fitted in it, and (of course) geek glasses. It's like he just stole my outfit from today and added a tie and boots. Wow.

"Do you like it?" He sweeps his black hair out of his eyes and smiles.

"Not too creative, is it?" My tone is dripping sarcasm. His face falls. Woops.

"Well, I just thought- You'd feel… More comfortable, is all. I mean, I didn't think you liked the chariot outfit…. But…" He said, at a loss for words.

"I mean, I really like it. Thanks Hip-Alnodo." I almost call him Hipster. That wouldn't have been too good.

"I knew you would!" He beams at me, and then orders me to undress. Awkward. But, anyway, I take off all my clothes until I'm down to just my underclothes and put on his outfit.

Then he puts on makeup.

Augh. Makeup. It's like this gross goop that they slather on your face. What's the freaking point of it? There's no point. There. I said it.

Alnodo and my prep team carefully apply the stuff, while Ameliana just croons at me. "Oh, you're so pretty Amber! Oh, I love your hair, Amber!" I hate that woman. I end up getting off easy, with only some mascara to highlight my long eyelashes, a light bit of gold eyeliner, and some blush, which I don't understand, because it makes the pink oddly stand out on my pale face. Huh.

Finally, I am standing in front of the full-length mirror in my outfit and full makeup. My hair has just been put back in its usual tail, but different parts have been straightened and curled and dyed to make it look almost exactly like a fox tail. How embarrassing. But, I have to admit, The Hipster and his team of idiots haven't done a bad job. My face looks highlighted and nice, but they really extenuated the "foxish" look. The outfit is fit exactly for me, so it tightens and hangs in all the right places. And you know what? Suddenly, I'm really not nervous for the interviews or anything. Which is good, because next I find myself lining up in the correct order with all the other tributes.

"Hey," I get tapped on the shoulder. I turn quickly, and there's Josh, in a nice black suit and brown tie.

"Oh. Hey!" I smile at him. He looks nice. Actually, most of the tributes look a whole lot fancier than I do. Great. They probably don't have hipsters for stylists.

"You look… interesting." He says, rubbing his chin.

"Thanks," I say hesitantly, but then there's a buzzer sound, and Josh runs back to his proper place in the line as the District One girl walks out, followed by the boy. We all follow in suit, and my heart starts to beat faster.

I walk into the interview stadium, and am temporarily blinded. When my vision adjusts, I find myself in a big, sparkling blue room. Everything is a nice shade of royal blue, covered with sparkles. I smile a little at all the sparkle, and then I see the crowd.

Seriously, there are so many of them it's a little scary. They're all cheering like crazy, screaming different tribute's names. I hear shouts of "Glimmer", "Cato", "Katniss", and "Marvel", among a few others. I don't hear any shouts of my name, though. Expected. They'll learn to love me in the arena, don't you worry.

"Hello, Panem!" A man walks up to the stage as soon as we're all seated in our sparkling blue chairs. I have a sudden random urge to spin around like a 6-year-old, because I'm so nervous.

I don't spin.

"Welcome to the seventy-fourth Hunger Games Interviews!" The man, Caesar Flickerman, shouts to the crowd. He has perfectly porcelain skin and dark eyes. His lips, eyelids, and hair have all been painted light blue for this year. He always turns them a different colour.

The crowd is deafening, screaming for their favourite tributes.

Somehow, Caesar quiets the crowd. All of the tributes are fidgeting in their chairs nervously. The boy from District eight is actually crying. Only the Careers look composed. Well, I don't really know if I do, but I'm trying my best. Maybe I just look constipated.

"First of all, I'd like Glimmer Radina from District One to take the stage please!" Caesar calls. The District One girl comes up to the stage. She has creamy blond curls and a see-through gold dress. I try to look like I'm calculating her every word, but most of it gets lost, except for the important things.

Like, why am I supposed to care if she owns a dog at home? Or has a boyfriend named Tuxedo? I do make a mental note that she plans to work with the other careers (Obviously) and that she's good with a knife. Huh.

Then her buzzer sounds and Marvel, the boy from their district, takes the stage. He's wearing a sparkling white tuxedo and a gold tie. His black hair is slicked back, and he pretty much looks like a gay rapist. I have to smother my laughter.

But he doesn't drop any hints about what he's planning for in the arena, but he seems like a really annoying guy. I hope he dies soon.

The girl from District Two is called Clove, and her brown hair drapes over her shoulders and halfway down her back lazily. Her black dress is short and evil-looking, and same with her personality, she's not really a crowd pleaser. I've seen her in training though, and she can throw knives like no other.

I'll keep an eye out for her.

The boy from her district is this giant named Cato. He looks like he's never missed a meal, or a trip to the gym. You can tell that he already has sponsors lined up, because of his ferocious personality and "killer instincts". He's really stupid though, you can tell. This guy is a total Career, through and through.

The girl from District Three is this 14 year old girl with dark skin and two braids, and she doesn't give anything away to anyone. I don't even know if she knows how to hold a knife correctly.

Probably not. I can kind of tell that she was trying for the "cute little girl" angle, but it didn't really work, seeing as she's much taller than anybody, except for maybe Cato.

Her partner looks like a total geek, with the glasses and everything. He's trying some sort of "sexy geek" approach, but it's not working, seeing as he's not sexy one little bit, and he's just about soaked through his black tux with sweat. Ew.

District four's girl has pretty dark brown hair that goes almost to her waist, and she's in a light green flowy dress that reaches the floor. She is light and bubbly, cute and silly, and a bunch of guys from the crowd are wolf-whistling at her by the end of her interview. Funny, she doesn't say anything career-ish like "I'm going to kill everyone that gets in my way" or "Don't worry Panem, I'll be back in about two weeks." She actually appears quite kind.

Not that I believe that at all.

I'm embarrassed to say that I missed District Four's boy's interview completely, because I was trying to get my body to stop twitching. My interview is coming up, and I'm completely unprepared. What if there's a question that I don't know how to answer? What if the whole country hates me? _Stay calm, _I tell myself while envisioning Jesse's face in my mind. _Calm. _

Then Caesar is shouting "Okay, let's hear from Amber Kwanee all the way here from District Five!" and I'm walking up to him, and we're shaking hands, and I'm trying not to shake visibly in front of the crowd.

"So, Amber, how do you like the Capitol?" He asks me. A typical easy question. I'm about to answer  
>"It's great and pretty" when I think, <em>No, Foxes wouldn't say it's great. Think like a fox. No, <em>be_ a fox._

So instead, I say "It's alright, but I'm not really a fan of big cities." I'm like a fox, slinking through this interview.

"So what are you a fan of?" Caesar asks with a smile on his blue lips.

"Forests. Big forests, ones that I can run in and slink around quietly, hunting." I reply. It's mostly true, anyway, but I've never hunted before.

"Do you get much of that at home in District Five, though?" The interviewer asks me, skeptical.

"Not if you play by the law," I smile sideways at him. He looks startled. There. Now they'll all think I'm some big unruly gangster fox back at home. I wonder if Jesse is watching me. I wonder what he'll think of this.

"I see…" Caesar checks the timer. Two minutes, 30 seconds left. "I like your outfit. What do you think of it?"

I snort. Woops. "It's okay, I guess."

"How do you like your stylist, Alnodo?"

"Uhh… He's…. an interesting person." Make that total hipster, but whatever.

Caesar is getting bored with this topic. "So, tell us about your home life so far away from here."

Oh, boy. "Well," I begin, not sure where to start. "I've got foster parents, but they don't like me much. Uh, I am in all the mutation classes at school, because I plan to be a mutation engineer when I'm older."

"So you're planning to come back?"

"Aren't we all?"

That shut him up. "How about a boyfriend? Got a nice northern love story for us?" Ugh.

"Not really. I mean, I have a boyfriend and stuff, but it's nothing special." Hearing the words out of my mouth, I really hope Jesse is smart enough to realize that that's not what I really mean.

"Oh? Then what's this?" He points to my ring.

I don't answer. Just glare at him, with still a minute to go.

"Do you have a strategy for the arena?" He changes the subject smartly.

"Uh huh." I reply nonchalantly.

"Care to share?"

"Oh, well, it's just kind of playing the Games how they're supposed to be played. Secretly, smartly, evilly, trickily. It's all up in my book, ready to be played out."

"Are you good with any particular weapons?"

"I guess I'm pretty good with a knife. My real weapon is my brain, though." I reply.

"I see. So are you going to set traps or what?"

"Oh, you can bet on that."

"I can't wait to see you in the arena." He says finally as the buzzer sounds. The crowd cheers for me. It actually cheers. How nice! Whatever.

Then Tommy's up. His interview goes nicely, and when Caesar asks him if he's afraid of me, he looks right at me and says "not really." And that kind of sends a shiver up my spine.

The District Six kids are really sad, and not to mention kinda ugly. No offense to them, but when they get killed, I hope it's quick, for their sake.

I sigh. The rest of the night is going to be really long.

District Seven has a 16 year old with spiky black hair and gothic makeup on. She is going all-out on the emo perspective, and so I guess that means she'll be dead at the Cornucopia.

Josh's interview goes nicely, he's charming toward the crowd, and they all love him. I really hope I don't have to kill him. That would be really awkward.

I would have told you about all the other tributes, but I'm sorry to say that I fell asleep. Yep. That's right. I did just about the worst thing you can do at the interviews. I fell asleep. I woke up just as the boy from District eleven was walking back to his seat. _Oh, crap, _I think as the girl from District Twelve shakes up to the stage. You can tell she's super scared, and when she shakes hands with Caesar, he wipes his hand on his suit with a grimace.

Poor guy.

The girl, called Katniss, actually ends up being an okay crowd-pleaser, which is weird, because she's usually all sullen and stuff. She starts spinning in her fancy dress, and starts giggling.

Ugh. So much cuteness.

It's not like she does much to make the crowd remember her, no matter about her flaming costume. Then the boy from her district takes the stage. _He's_ one that makes people remember him. He tells a joke, talks with Caesar, is funny, and everything. All of the Capitol freaks love him. Then Caesar's all like, "Do you have a girlfriend?" And this boy, Peeta, is like "Uh, well, there's this one girl…" And I'm about to fall asleep again when he says "She came here with me."

The crowd explodes, and he's walking back to his seat with a triumphant smile. None of it's real, most likely. It was probably just an idea to get sponsors.

It's crazy what people do for the Games.


	7. Chapter 7

**Greetings, lovelies. I now realize that when I try to rush my writing, it sounds worse, so I may be updating slower. And… School and whatever, so that too. Currently I'm trying to write this and do my homework at the same time. **

**Oh, and about the tribute outfit, that's how I imagined it, so if you thought of it a different way, then whatever. **

I sit down on the hard chair and take a deep breath.

"Ready?" The Hipster asks me, smiling.

All I can do is force out a little sound from the back of my throat that sounds like a fork being scraped across a piece of overcooked toast.

We are in a small white room with no windows and a locked door. To my right is a big, white table, and I am sitting in a straight-backed black chair. I lean down on the table, trying to avoid looking at the large glass tube I am going to have to step inside soon.

Today is the day. The day I'm going to the Games. My day. I might be dead in a couple hours, or even minutes. Or days, or weeks. Or years. It all depends on what happens in the Arena above me.

"You should eat something. You have like twenty minutes or so." He says, touching me on the shoulder. I jump.

"Yeah…" I squeak as he puts a plate of eggs out in front of me, along with a big glass of water. I scarf down the eggs without really tasting them, burning my mouth, and gulp down the water quickly.

"How about we get you dressed and ready to go?" The Hipster asks me in what he probably thinks is a reassuring tone.

I'm not reassured. But I nod anyway.

So he opens a package on the table. Inside are a dark green beany hat, a green long sleeve V-neck shirt, leathery belt, camo pants, a long black jacket, undershirt, underwear, a bra, skin tight socks, and some lace-up brown boots. Actually, the tribute outfit this year doesn't seem too bad.

I force The Hipster to turn away, and change into the outfit, save the hat. It doesn't look too bad on me. Since these, like my interview outfit, were made to fit me and only me, they fit well. It's hard to believe that everybody in the Capitol wears things that fit. At home, you go to the big Justice Building when you need new clothes, and they give you whatever crap they have lying around. So usually, I end up in clothes that don't fit well, as well as everyone else. The only thing that really fits at home are school and work uniforms, which are made for you, that you aren't allowed to wear besides going to school or work.

I examine my body in the mirror. My long arms are completely covered by the sleeves of the shirt and the jacket, which is nice. A big bonus is that the camo pants completely cover my long legs, something that I don't get at home. The shoes fit nicely, which is good, because I'm sure I'll have to do some serious running. The only problem is the belt, which The Hipster assures me fits right, but it feels too tight. Whatever, I can take it off soon.

The Hipster comes up behind me and ties back my hair. I run my long fingers through my tail, fingering the fiery strands, as he puts the hat on my head.

By now, in the warm outfit, a fine trickle of sweat is running down my back from the heat, but also just because of the nerves.

Finally, a cool, female voice instructs me to enter the glass tube. I walk inside of it, my stomach churning, and suddenly I'm rising, up and up, into the arena, where I have one minute to stand on my metal plate and not blow up.

I quickly take in my surroundings. There's a forest to my left, and a hill to my right. In front of me, behind the glittering cornucopia and shaking tributes, there's a lake. _I can do this, _I think to myself.

30 seconds left.

I look over to the careers, Glimmer and Cato and District four and all the rest. They are looking at each other, using hand signals to try to make a premature alliance. Cato points to the golden horn, loaded with supplies, and then points over to the lake. The message is simple enough: _Let's fight at the Cornucopia, and then head for the lake to make camp. _

_Okay Cato, will do_. I smile.

The gong rings out all throughout the field.

I take off running toward the Cornucopia before most of the tributes are off of their plates. Grab a knife, and a backpack of food. Kill a boy who came up next to me with a sword. I don't have time to check who it is. Grab a sleeping bag, and some matches. A canteen of water. Fend off a girl with an axe. Get running.

I sprint to the forest, and just keep running. Then I remember what Cato said to the others about the lake. I begin to make my way east, where the lake is waiting.

I begin to tire after a while, and set off at a brisk walk. Occasionally, I peek out of the trees. The fight is still going on, the fighters stepping on each fallen body like stepping stones. My stomach flips. I squint at the nine figures still fighting: Cato, Clove, Glimmer, Marvel, the bubbly girl from four (who seems to have turned Career overnight), the geek from District Three, the lover boy from Twelve, the girl from District 10, and one other boy I can't see quite right. It isn't until he turns so the sunlight is on his face that I see his full profile. It's Josh! Silently rooting for him, I take a spot by the lake, just enough in the forest that the Careers won't see me if they do a quick check. I watch the fight, which is close to ending. The District 10 girl is dead, and they've seemed to accept Lover Boy, so it's just the geek, Josh, and the Careers. As quick as a wink, Cato has Josh on spear point. _No!_ The District Two boy skewers Josh, and laughs. Ugh. This is so gross.

Now Cato's about to kill the geek from District Three, when the boy puts his hands up and says something that I can't hear. Cato pauses, then lowers his spear. He says something to the other Careers, and the seven of them start scooping up supplies from the horn, and begin walking to the lake.

Then the cannon booms once, twice, 11 times. 11! That's leaving 13 of us to fight off until one is on top.

I wonder if Tommy's still alive. Probably not, poor kid.

But I have my own problems right now. The Careers are probably going to do a search of the nearby forest once they get all the supplies here, leaving one person as guard. So I take off running at a diagonal, and easy enough pattern for when I'll come back, but the other tributes will never find me. I take refuge in a small dugout, and wait to hear their footsteps. I take a swig of water, and it just sloshes around in my stomach.

Their footsteps come close, but not nearly close enough to see me. I hear them calling to one another, making a big racket, until they are satisfied that nobody's up against them here.

If only they were right.

Then they start arranging the food and supplies in almost a pyramid, and Cato's laughing, "Make it like the Cornucopia! It'll be just like the first minute of the Games! _What?_

Then that boy, the geek, is walking back toward the empty shell of the golden horn with a shovel. What's he doing?

I watch carefully as he takes the shovel and digs up something. It's reddish-brown from the dirt, but it's clearly a candle-like shape. It finally clicks in my mind what it is.

One of the land mines.

He's reactivating the land mines.

That's what he's doing.

My eyes widen as the boy carries the Mine over to the lake, then goes back to the Cornucopia and digs up another. Soon, all the Careers are working to dig up the explosives.

After about an hour, they have all the mines, and the geek, who someone calls Riley, starts playing around with the wires on the land mines, explaining to them that they'll be a certain pattern that they can use to get the food and supplies, but nobody else will know the pattern, so they'll blow themselves up trying to steal the food.

It's a smart idea. I'll just have to memorize that pattern.

Suddenly, Riley cries out. One of the wires off of the mine he was playing with has shocked him. He smiles.

"I think it works, ladies and gentlemen." He says, trying to be funny or something. The others just glare at him.

He starts burying the mines, and it's almost dark. The others start to help him, and they are halfway done when they see the smoke from a fire.

**Haha its okay, I guess. It'll get better once the Games really kick in, so like next chapter. I'm trying to think of what she'll need at the feast, because food or a knife just seems too boring. Maybe tell me in the reviews? **


	8. Chapter 8

**I made a poem about how much I love reviews:**

**Roses are red**

**Violets are blue**

**Review my story, dammit. **

**Currently I'm eating a bowl of ravioli while typing this… New all-time low. **

**:D**

The careers take off in search of the fire, all of them running toward the smoke, hastily grabbing weapons from their big stash. I smile, and mentally thank the person who started that fire. They most likely have paid with their life by now. I idly wonder who it is. Then the Capitol Anthem booms in my ears and I'm looking up, slowly. Tribute faces flash by me, the faces of the dead. They all shimmer in the sky, then blink out, never to be seen again in life.

There's no picture of anybody until the District three girl with the braid. Then comes the District Four boy, the one who died at the Cornucopia. Then that girl with the braids from Three, Tommy (poor kid), both failures from six, both from seven (I stiffen at Josh's picture), the guy from eight, both tributes from nine, the girl from Ten, and nobody else. So that means that the ones left alive are me, Glimmer, Marvel, Cato, Clove, Riley from three, the girl from four (who's called Mellony, I heard), that small blond girl from eight who only got a 3 in training, the crippled boy from Ten, the big guy from eleven, the teensy little girl from that district, Lover Boy (obviously), and Lover Girl. Then a cannon booms. Which one of them was that? Not a career, obviously, but the fire starting idiot. Was it Lover Girl? The elfin one from eleven? Blondie from nine? I push it out of my head and focus on what's in front of me: The Career's supplies. Or, my supplies, I guess.

Riley made it very clear that there would be a secret way to get to the supplies. Since only half of the land mines are laid out, I might as well star figuring out that path. I close my eyes, trying to remember the way that they placed out the bombs. They were set in a way so that if one goes off, the rest go off too, in order to kill the thief. But what if you jump in the small spaces between the mines? My eyes wander over the patches of dirt where the lethal sticks are buried. _Hop there, step here, tiptoe there, balance right over here,_ I make up a plan. A way to not blow up, yet still reach the pyramid of food.

The Careers are still not back, so I go a little farther into the forest, and climb up a tree, with a little difficulty. Okay, with a lot of difficulty, scrapes, bumps and bruises, I made it up the tree with my backpack of supplies on my back. I've stuffed the sleeping bag , water, and matches in the pack along with the food already inside of it.

After scrambling up the tree, I set my sleeping bag on one of the lower branches, and try to wriggle into it. I, and my sleeping bag, nearly fall. So I abandon the tree idea, and clamber down it. I choose a hollow with the protection of a couple rocks and make camp there. I don't start a fire, like the idiot that my campmates have just killed, but I do eat a couple crackers from my backpack, drink a swig of water, and climb into my sleeping bag. Good thing I have it, too, because the night_ is_ rather cold. I curl up, hoping that sleep will find me so that tomorrow I can come out to play.

No, direct confrontation is not the route I'd like to go. But I will come out to the cameras, and they'll see exactly why they want to sponsor me. I wonder if I've been aired yet. Maybe there's a shot or two of me spying on the careers, maybe when I was killing people at the Cornucopia. I wonder if I have any sponsors yet. Is Jesse watching me? Is he proud of me? Or does he not like what I've been doing?

Loud footfalls inform me that my campmates, the Careers, are back. They loudly set up camp and get to sleep. After a while, I fall into a fitful, light sleep.

When I wake up, it's still dark. I'm cold on the hard ground of my cave. I shiver and pull the sleeping bag closer to my small body. I try to go back to sleep, but my mind is already buzzing. Since I'm seriously freezing, I get out of my sleeping bag to get moving. I pack up "camp", which means putting my sleeping bag back into my backpack. I take a sip of water, and eat a few more crackers. The bag is almost empty, and then I'll only have my dried fruit and bag of nuts left. I'm going to have to steal from the Careers soon if I don't want to starve.

I slowly creep out of the cave, making sure not to crash through the shrubs, until I get to the hard-packed forest floor. Putting my backpack in a small ditch and covering it with cold leaves, I leave it there, remembering the scenery so I will know to come back. I start jogging around, to get warm. First, I just jog in circles, but then I start getting dizzy, so I run through the forest, the cool air almost ripping my hat off. It's hard to keep from laughing gleefully, because this is really fun, actually.

As I near the Career camp, I slow down to a soft creep across the ground. Peeking out the trees, I note that all the careers are asleep. They probably had some sort of Watch person, but they obviously got weary. They were all sleeping at the shore of the lake, so it was a perfect time to test my theory with the mines. The question was how to do it without blowing myself up.

I stand on the exact edge of the new minefield, and take a deep breath. This could be just like in P.E when we would have to cross the balance beam, only this was life or death. It's easy to see where the mines are buried, because the dirt is still uncovered-looking in those areas, so it shouldn't be hard to gauge where I'd blow up and where I'd be safe.

Knowing that cameras are probably focused on me, I straighten my posture. _You can do this. _If I've already survived the first day of the Hunger Games, I could do this. As long as my theory is correct. As long as the Careers don't wake up. Trying to push all the bad thought out of my mind, I take my first step.

And wait.

There's no explosion.

I sigh in relief, trying not to shift my weight at all. Time to take my second step. I brace myself for the worst, raise my foot, and step. Nothing happens again. The next mine is a little ways away, so I take three or so steps. I'm starting to get the hang of this. Hop here, step there, it's like a dance, a ballet in which the only things that exist are me and this explosive field.

Then suddenly, I'm at the pyramid of supplies. I look around at all the things there are for me to take. My mouth waters at the sight of all this food. And the _weapons._ I bet they all think I'm unarmed. Ha.

In the end, I only end up taking a little bit of stuff, just enough so that I will have good rations, but the Careers won't even notice anything's gone. I do my little jig back to the rim of the mines, and jog back to my little cave. Spreading out my stuff, my face turns into a grin. I really can do this. I could win these Games.

As it turns out, all I stole from the Careers were a loaf of bread, a bottle of water, two apples, some salted pork, three throwing knives, and a raincoat. It's hard to believe that all this is only a fraction of what the Careers got from the Cornucopia. One thing's for sure, and that's that _I_ won't be the one to starve to death, if any of us is.

In my tiny cave, I'm cold, but relatively happy, actually. Trying to decide something to do with today, I take out the throwing knives from the minefield. _Might as well try to practice_, I think.

So I head a little outside my cave, and walk a ways. I don't want to be leaving signs of me in somewhere where I'll be for a while. Finally, I get to a tree that's nice and thick, as well as a little soft. Wondering if I'm being aired right now or not, I slide the first knife out of my belt, which is still bugging me.

_Thud._ The knife hits the ground next to the tree. Huh. I pulled out the next one.

_Thud._ On the ground again. Third one.

_Wham!_ It smacks into the middle of the tree, and sinks in. Retrieving the knives. Throwing the knife.

_Wham!_ Into the tree again.

_Wham wham! _My two next knives hit it. Smiling to myself, I work them out of the tree. I'd like to meet up with Clove or Marvel or Mellony and show them my knives. Wow. Seventeen year old girls really shouldn't be thinking about that stuff. Stupid Capitol.

The sun is high in the sky, so it must be about noon. I'm bored. I bet the Capitol audience is, too.

So I'll take advantage of the time I have before the Gamemakers decide to shake things up a bit. I lie down on the floor of my lovely home, and take a nap.

I'm awoken by a wall of flame blocking the entrance.


	9. Chapter 9

**All you reviewers (the lovely three of you) are cool. I really have nothing to say right now, except for the fact that I hate homework. But yeah…**

**OH and I got this assignment for the whole year that I have to do a million drafts of a story then publish it online to a writing competition…. This should be interesting.**

**I fixed an error about how many dead tributes there were in chapters seven and eight, so that's fixed. I reread the Hunger Games book, and now have a little bit more insight on what happens. **

As soon as I saw the flame, I freaked out. The only entrance to the cave is blocked by fire, locking me in. This isn't one of those stories where I could just follow the end of the cave until it lets out to safety, because this cave is shallow, and the deepest I can go in is only about seven feet or so.

Seven feet into a cave is better than dying in the fire. I crawl as far back as possible, trying to prevent my death as much as possible. There are probably cameras on me right now, unless somebody else is burning to death right now.

The Capitol loves a good death scene.

But I refuse to think that I'm about to die. That's no way to think. I carefully watch the fire: Is it creeping closer to me? How far inside the cave is it?

Then it hits me: The fire isn't even _in_ my cave, technically. It's outside of it, and isn't stretching inside. Then I remember something from the "Safety Techniques" station at the training center. It was when the trainer was talking about Fire Safety. I struggle to recall his droning, boring voice.

"_In case of a fire," The man, a middle aged guy with dark hair, said, "Your best bet is to get out of the range of fire. If that can't happen, try to find a dugout or cave so the fire will pass next to you. If neither of those options is open to you, scramble up a tree and hope for the best." He chuckled darkly, as if to tell me that I was inevitably going to die in case there was a fire._

A cave! That means I'm safe! I almost cheer, but stop myself just in time. Just because they are probably trying to evade the fire, that doesn't mean that other tributes won't be able to hear if somebody is near them.

I bet the Capitol has probably taken the cameras off me now that they've figured out that I won't die. But I must have looked very clever, staying in the cave and not clambering out of it, to the audience. More power to my Foxy angle.

There are no cameras on me, I am sure, because it's quite boring, what I'm doing. Eating. I'm hungry, and I've got time.

After a while, I take off my jacket, because I'm starting to get hot. I wonder how the guys look in this V-neck. I haven't gotten a good look at Cato, but I imagine him to look rather ridiculous. It's easy to see who this outfit was designed for. Me. Well, not _really_ me, but for the ones who want to survive. At first, you would think that the tribute design was just a normal outfit, but you'd be wrong. After you've had a good look at it, you can see that the shirt is nicely close fitting, as to not snag on sharp twigs, and warm. The pants are long and a little bit baggier. I carefully inspect them. They look like they'd be canvas or khaki, but really they're made up of the same material as basketball shorts. The hat is a knit beanie, not made for rain but for warmth, and the jacket is snug and waterproof. Yet it has no hood. The boots, on the other hand, seem to be made for walking on hard packed dirt, like the forest floor. But they aren't in the least bit warm. But the socks are thermal.

Feeling as if curious cameras may be trained on me, I say in a quiet tone, "It just doesn't add up. Looking at the hat, socks, and shirt, you would think it was going to be cold, but not rainy. But the coat tells you that it will rain. Yet the pants and boots promise hot days. And it's rather a normal temperature outside." Hah. As long as nobody is being roasted to a crisp, my little speech about the clothes was caught by my audience.

Actually, as I look out the entrance of my cave, the fire is out. I crawl outside and look around me. Surprisingly, the world isn't burned to a crisp. But this is not a real forest, so I guess it makes sense. I survey the area, hear nobody around me, and let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

You would think, after watching the Hunger Games without ever being in them, that the Games are nonstop action, fighting, and death. But they haven't been like that at all. No, for about an hour I was just staring at my clothes while sitting in a cave. I should probably do something interesting for the audience. But no, some people may have been burned by the fire, and they are probably getting lovely shots of them in agony. Huh.

I sleep.

When I wake up, I feel refreshed. So I start to walk around. In truth, I'm actually bored. There's honestly nothing to do. So I walk to the career camp, maybe to get some supplies or something.

Big mistake.

I didn't figure that they'd be here, after the fire. But oh-ho, here they are. Just sitting around, eating lunch or whatever meal that it is that they're eating. Some of them are nursing burns with whatever they can find, but there doesn't seem to be any special burn remedy in their pile of things. I notice how each time they want to get to their pyramid of stuff, they do an interesting dance of hopping that they probably made up. I try to remember this, but it's too intricate, and besides, I have my own way of taking from them.

"Hey!" The big one, Cato, yells. He's noticed me. My eyes grow wide. No use trying to slink into the shadows now.

"What is it, Cato?" Mellony asks, annoyed. She tosses her long hair over one shoulder.

Cato turns to her, and I take this chance to melt back into the trees.

"There was a… I thought I saw…" Cato stutters, turning back to where I was and not seeing me.

"A what? You having nightmares about Katniss again?" Mellony teases. The others laugh, all except for Lover Boy, who almost winces, but catches himself.

"That girl… The redheaded one…" Cato tries to get his dignity back. "She was right there, I swear she was!"

Everybody looks at him doubtfully, but then Glimmer speaks up. "Might as well check. I mean if she _is_ there, we could just kill her and get it over with. I don't see how she's stayed alive this long anyway." She scoffs, then smiles at Cato flirtatiously.

She stands up, followed quickly by Cato. Marvel and Lover Boy stand up soon after, and only Mellony is reluctant. After a few seconds, she stands up.

"I don't think she's there at all." She says with her nose in the air.

But they set off anyway, leaving Riley to hang out with his mine field.

It just connects in my mind now that they're going after me, so I set off. I'm going as fast as I can without making sound, because if they hear even the slightest rustle I know that they will speed up from their leisurely place.

Then I trip.

Why do I have to be so clumsy when I'm nervous? And of course, I trip in the loudest bush in the forest, so they hear me loud and clear. They speed up. I pick myself up as fast as I can and set off like a bullet. I don't know where I'm going, weaving through the trees while my feet pick their own path. I realize soon that they will probably overtake me like this, because they all have stronger bodies than me. But I have a stronger mind.

I dive into a big clump of bushes just before they come into the clearing where I was a second ago.

"Where… Is… She?" Marvel asks, breathing heavily.

"I don't know," Cato replies, looking around. There's a small bit of movement in front of them, curiously not made by me. The Careers rush forward, only to find not me, but the Fire Girl, the one from District Twelve.

Fire Girl takes off running as fast as she can; only she's not quite as fast as the Careers. Although she's got a good head start, they are slowly gaining on her. I follow them, I'm not sure why, but I do. At my own pace, I'm a little distance behind the Careers, but can still see everything that goes on.

Suddenly, Fire Girl stops and scurries up a tree like she's a little squirrel. I dive into some nearby bushes again, not wanting to be caught.

The Careers stare up into the tree as the light starts to fade. Cato tries to climb up, but he starts breaking branches long before he's even close to Fire Girl. But still, she climbs higher. Glimmer also tries, but she's too heavy for the tree as well. How much does Fire Girl weigh? Can't be much, if she can climb up a tree that high. I know I could never do that, because I'm kind of clunky when it gets to that sort of thing.

Glimmer tries to lob and arrow at Fire Girl but it misses, because she's a really bad aim. I can see something flare up in the eyes of the girl in the tree. It seems like a mixture of anger and jealousy. It's not very hard to see that she wants the bow. I wonder what sort of thing she can do with it. Most tributes from District Twelve can't do anything, but this girl got an eleven in training and seems to know all about how to survive in the woods.

"Let's just leave her up in the tree," Lover Boy suggests. "She's not going anywhere."

The others murmur in agreement and set up a small makeshift camp. Fire Girl looks pretty content, and as I squint up at her, I see another figure. It's that tiny girl, the one from eleven. Or at least I think it is. Nobody else in this arena is that small. The little girl points up to something in Fire Girl's tree, then melts back into her own tree. Fire Girl looks up, and she immediately looks freaked out. I have no idea what's in the tree, but whatever it is, you can tell that she wants to be far away from it.

She climbs up towards it, anyway. As the anthem blares out, filling the arena with the patriotic tune, Fire Girl starts to do something to the thing above her, working quickly. When the anthem stops, apparently she's not done, and slinks back down to her original branch sadly.

None of the Careers saw any of this. They are all snoring in minutes. It takes me a while to fall asleep, and when I do, it's very fitful again.

I wake up to the sting of a wasp.


	10. Chapter 10

**My favourite forum website is down, (Sadness) so that means more updates for you! Yay…**

**And I still need an idea on what Amber needs from the feast… I'm thinking new shoes after what happens in this chapter… *FORESHADOWING***

_Ow_. The wasp stings my hand, which was flayed out in my sleep. I pull it in close to my body, trying to dig out the stinger. I look to see where it came from. A huge nest of tracker jackers have opened on the ground, courtesy of Fire Girl dropping it on the Careers and me. The Careers are running, screaming about the lake. That's a good idea, but I'm not risking following them. Luckily for me, no other wasps find me, they all follow my campmates. Glimmer and Mellony just stand there, being stung more and more, until they both fall to the ground, worse than dead.

The venom of the wasps is already starting to affect me. I don't know if it begins to rain heavily or not, but I know that Jesse probably didn't really fly out of the sky with huge, white wings on his back. Lover Boy may or may not have come and told Fire Girl, who is now holding a bow for some reason, to leave. She does. Cato comes and messily cuts Lover Boy in the upper thigh. Lover boy hops off, or at least I think, while Cato cackles happily, grows fur, and starts to skip away. Winged-Jesse holds me close as I get drenched from the constant may-or-may-not-be-real thunderstorm. The raindrops sparkle as they hit me, and they must have some sort of sedative in them, because I fall asleep after a while.

I wake up just as the anthem blares out, and two tributes shine in the sky. Glimmer and Mellony. Well, it figures, considering that last time I've seen them, they were stung about 50 times by Tracker Jackers. I almost feel pity for their painful ends, but then I stop myself. With less tributes, especially Careers, the more chance that I will win. Seeing Jesse (or my own hallucination of him) earlier today reminded me more of why I want, no, _need_, to win. Without thinking, I clutch the ring on my finger, but then quickly stop. You never know when cameras are on you.

I close my eyes. Because of the incident this morning, the Capitol will probably give us a good night's sleep tonight. I realize that I'm still in the bushes near the tree that Fire Girl was up this morning (She appears to have gone somewhere else during the day), but I am too tired to want to move anywhere. So I conceal myself a little bit more in the shrubbery and go to sleep quickly.

When the sky gets lighter, I awaken. I actually slept pretty well last night. Without thinking, I stand up and stretch.

There is a loud scraping and rustling to my left. I turn quickly, my hair whipping my face, to see a boy standing there.

I stare at him, and he stares at me. It's the cripple from District Ten. He has dirty brown hair, big brown eyes, and freckles. I think he's about thirteen or so. And he's just looking at me, unarmed.

"I'm Devin." He says, looking at me. Is he seriously trying to make an ally?

I just glare at him. It's not hard to guess that cameras are probably on us.

Then I hear footsteps. They're quiet, but heavy, so I can tell somebody's watching us. Must be Cato. Nobody else could make that heavy footfall but that District 11 boy, but he's in the fields.

I can't think of anything else to do, because I don't want to kill either of these boys, but I have to get away. So, without really thinking, I remove one of my heavy boots and toss it at his head. It makes a heavy impact, and the boy looks a little uneven, so I start to run.

Cato jumps out of the underbrush. I throw my other shoe at him, and then start to run. The last thing I see before running away is Cato taking out his spear.

As I run, I barely register the cannon boom that must mean Devin's death. So Cato may or may not be after me now. I sure hope not.

After a while, I'm back at my cave, hiding. I hear no footsteps, no voices. So nobody's after me, hopefully.

But I'm starved. I open my pack. There isn't a lot of food left in it. I will take from the Careers tomorrow, when they're asleep or not at camp. For now, I just take out some crackers and an apple and eat hungrily. I drink my whole canteen of water, and sit down.

It's then that I realize how dirty I am. My hair is almost out of its tail, and parts of it look almost brown from all my trips to the shrubs. My skin looks much tanner than it is really, because there's so much dirt on it, and I don't even want to see my face.

_Bath time,_ I think to myself, sniggering. Now I have to find a stream or pond or something to bathe in, because I'm definitely not going to the lake where my friends Cato, Clove, and Marvel are waiting. It's hot out today, so I should dry quickly if I get wet, although my hair is rather thick and it usually takes a while to dry.

Wandering around the woods that are stocked with teenagers that want to kill you isn't much fun, even if you have three throwing knives and a paring knife to your name. So I try to slink around in the shadows, as to not show myself to anyone who might be hanging around here. As I walk I try to make a list of those of us who are alive.

Well, there's Marvel, who's District partner died yesterday, Cato and Clove from District two, Riley's still alive from District three, Me, the two from Eleven, (the Fairy girl and the giant boy) Lover boy and Fire Girl. So that makes 9 of us.

Finally, I stumble across a pool. It's not too deep, maybe four feet, and has a pebble bottom. Okay.

Taking off my clothes in the middle of the woods is weird, so I decide to just take off my jacket, shirt, socks, and pants. The pool is cold, and a shiver runs up my spine as I wade into the deepest part.

Scrubbing myself head to toe is a lot harder than I thought it would be. My hair takes a while to scrub out, because most of the mud and dirt has caked onto it. My arms and legs are pretty simple, but they look very pink and scrubbed when I finish.

My face is the hardest, though. I can't see it, so I never know where the grime is. So, I just try to do my best and soak myself.

I wash my clothes, and put them back on when they are soaked but clean. By then I'm freezing. When I thought that the sun would dry me off, I never thought that it would take this long. I'm shivering, even in the bright sunlight.

But I'm starving and thirsty, too. I fill my canteen with water from the stream, so at least I have that. But I have no food left, really. I could try my hand at hunting, I guess, because I have seen quite a few squirrels and rabbits around.

I take out one of my throwing knives and stalk around the forest, looking for something to eat. I spot a fat squirrel and throw my curved knife at its back.

_Thump._ My knife hits the squirrel on the head, killing it. I walk over and retrieve it. The squirrel is light, but I bet it has some good meat on it. Taking out my paring knife, I cut away the skin, trying to get to the meat. There is a fair bit of blood, and soon my hands are stained red. But I do get a little meat for my efforts.

I stare at the meat and my stomach quivers. I don't want to eat this thing raw, but I don't want to risk a fire. Then I get an idea.

I trek back to my cave, still shivering in my wet clothes. I light a small fire (using my skills from the fire-starting class) in the cave and cook the squirrel meat. I stamp out the blaze as soon as I am done roasting the squirrel, and leave the smoky cave. Now, there won't be any smoke in the sky, and I have a cooked squirrel. I bite down into the meat.

Have you ever eaten roasted squirrel? I won't say that it's the best type of meat, but when you are very hungry, it's very tasty. No, I'm not telling you to go out and cook a squirrel, but right then it was the best thing that I could have eaten.

By now it's dark, and the sky shows the other tributes that Devin is dead. I fall asleep on the forest floor since my cave is too smoky, and dream of nothing in particular, except for being out of this arena. And the fact that I need shoes now.

**So, whaddya think? I don't often put notes at the end of chapters, but sometimes I can shake things up a bit, right? Yeah, so I was thinking maybe I might start a SYOT because that sounds fun to write. What do you guys think?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Yeah, I'm back. There are new Foxface fanfics so I need to be the one at the top of the list… I'm so competitive, God. **

**Uh, Cerulean_ Apocalypse, I just want to point out that she threw her shoes at Cato and Devin the Tribute, so she doesn't have them…**

**Kay. Here:**

When I wake up, I'm hungry. And thirsty. And cold.

I could just go on and on with things to complain about, but I'd better stick to the story.

My sleeping bag is kind of torn up from who-knows-what, I have a bunch of scrapes from shrubs in the forest, my hair is still slightly wet, I'm hungry, and have no food.

I'm so happy right now.

Yeah, as if. But I am walking to the Career camp, in hopes of getting some food.

With my luck, of course, they are at the camp, milling around, gorging themselves on breakfast. My stomach rumbles, and I'm really lucky that the Careers don't hear me. It's just four of them now, out of the original seven: Glimmer, Mellony, and Lover boy are all gone, leaving only Cato, Clove, Riley, and Marvel left. I hope that they all die.

Walking back to my cave would be unbearable, and staying here is tiring, so I am about to go practice throwing knives or something when Clove sees something.

"Cato!" She shouts in her high voice that would be cute unless you know how deadly she is.

I'm freaked out, afraid that she might have seen me again, but she's pointing at the opposite direction from me.

"Yeah?" Cato calls, looking up from his scone. A scone! Can you imagine? I've never eaten a scone in my life, they were too expensive, and now there's one in the Hunger Games!

Squinting, I make out what Clove's pointing to. There's a fire, off in the distance. I wonder who's off setting a fire right now.

Cato seems to know who it is. "Come on, let's go. And when we get to her, nobody touch her. I'm killing her my way."

Eek. I'm glad it's not me setting that fire.

Cato seems to think it's that Fire Girl, from the way he's talking. I mean, who else would he hate so much in this Games? I run through all the girls that are left: Me, Tiny from eleven, Clove, and Fire Girl. It's obviously not Clove, and I don't _think_ it's me, and after all, Fire Girl was the one who dropped the nest on him. I rub my arm, which still throbs painfully, at the memory.

Cato starts to run off when Marvel calls to him.

"What?" He grunts. You can tell he wants to get going.

"Is Riley coming?" Marvel asks, holding a spear.

"Sure. We're gonna need all of us for this." Cato replies, trying to head off again. But Clove catches him.

"But what about the food?" she asks.

"Nobody's touching that, thanks to Riley." Cato snarls. Riley yelps, grabs a spear from Marvel, and sets off with the rest of the pact to catch Fire Girl or whoever it is.

Perfect time, too. I stick my head out of the brush, making sure they're all gone. They are. Then I hop out of the forest and start doing the dance to the supply pyramid.

It's easier than last time, and actually kind of fun, if you know what you're doing.

But then I trip.

I can't help but let out a little squeal as I go down. This is the end. I'm about to explode into 50,000 pieces that even the Gamemaker's hovercrafts won't be able to pick up.

There's a miracle: I live.

This is amazing. I sigh in relief, and do the rest of the hopping until I get to the supplies. I grab just enough, like last time. I'm only taking a few apples, a loaf of bread, a couple crackers, some bacon, and two potatoes. But that'll be enough until next time I can take from the Careers.

I take the first step back into the minefield, and feel the prick of somebody watching me. Slowly turning, sure that Cato will be next to me with a spear at my throat, I realize it's Fire Girl.

She's hiding in some other bushes, watching me as I steal the supplies. Is she planning on following my plan and taking from them, too? But no, she's looking at the ground like she's trying to figure out something.

Whatever, I just need to get back to my own camp as fast as possible. I hop, skip, and jump back to the brush, and run back to my cave before the Careers come back.

Sighing, I open my pack. I immediately stuff three slices of bacon in my mouth, followed by a slice of bread, washing it all down with the now-warm water from the stream yesterday. Now I just have to wait for the stomach pain to go away. I lay back on my sleeping bag, it's nice and warm now. _Maybe I'll get some sleep…_

BOOM! A loud noise rouses me. I shoot up in my sleeping bag. What was that?

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM! It's like a bomb is exploding, but why would the Gamemakers set a bomb?

BOOM! Bombs….. Mines… It's the minefield! The minefield is exploding.

There's one last crash, and it's over, save a few stray mines that are blowing up every couple of seconds.

I hear footsteps crashing through the trees. Obviously, the Careers heard the mine explosions, just like everyone else in the arena. I hear their shouts of dismay, and can't bear to not watch this. So I creep quietly back to my usual spot in the brush, and watch Cato's anger leak out of him.

I hate to say it, but it's hilarious to watch. Cato beats the ground with his fists, yells into the sky, and cries. I can't believe it. Cato? Crying?

Then, as quick as he started, Cato stops shouting and turns to Riley with a murderous look on his face.

"You said the mines were foolproof." He growls, narrowing his already-beady eyes.

"I said," Riley squeaks in his know-it-all tone, "That the mines would blow up if anybody tries to take our supplies."

"How come all our supplies are burned then, District Three?" Cato purrs, even though his face is blotchy and red.

"Well, if you look on the bright side, we probably got rid of the thief. I mean, it's obvious that if the cannon went off in those explosions, nobody could hear it." Riley says, avoiding Cato's look.

Huh. Maybe he's right. I'm guessing that Fire Girl was the one who tried to steal from them, so maybe she's dead now. But so is my main food source.

"I don't care, District Three." Cato says, still in that creepy pedophile-purr voice. "My food is gone, my supplies are gone, and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!" On the last three words, he lunges towards Riley and snaps his neck, killing him. There's the boom of the cannon, announcing District Three's death.

Clove, who has been standing there the whole time, looks a little surprise. I don't blame her. Even though Cato's obviously a maniac, I didn't expect him to go killing his allies.

But I guess that Riley never was his ally, he was just there for the minefield. So since he was deemed unusable after the mines went off, there was no reason for him to live. Poor Guy.

Clove puts her hand on Cato's arm, trying to calm him down. Cato shakes it off and heads into the woods. Clove follows hurriedly.

Well, if nobody's going to use the supplies now…

I go and approach the big black wreck of what used to be the Career's supplies. I search through the wreckage, trying to find something usable.

It's hard not to crack up. Somehow, I feel bad for Clove, Cato, and Marvel, for losing their food, but it's good that they will feel the threat of hunger like the rest of us.

But that's true for me, too. Crap. I need to find my own food.

For now, though, I can laugh at the Career's expense. The laughter rises up in me, and pours out of my mouth happily. It's been a while since I've laughed for real like this. It's nice.

And it isn't nothing that I'm finding either. There's a bunch of stuff that might be a little charred, but sure as hell is useful. No food, sure, but I can find knives, cups, water canteens that still have stuff in them, a steel box of wire, and a ton more metal stuff.

In the end, I just take three more throwing knives, another all-purpose knife, a new water canteen, and some tinder. Too bad there aren't any shoes hiding in this mountain, I sure could use some.

Which reminds me. I rub my sore feet thoughtfully. Don't I have any sponsors? Won't they be tripping over themselves to buy some shoes for me? Or actually, I bet I have a couple sponsors, but I bet Michael isn't sending anything through because he hates me.

"Seriously Michael, would it kill you to send me SOMETHING?" I say under my breath, hoping it gets picked up by the cameras.

And apparently it does, because a silver parachute is the next thing I see, floating down to greet me.

**There's not gonna be shoes in the parachute… Just saying..**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi. I really hate school. It's so annoying. My teachers are all deciding to "pick up the pace" with homework now that we're farther into the school year, and my locker has decided to make me put in my combination twice before it wants to open. Argh. But enough of me. Here's the story:**

**PS: Cerulean_Apocalypse, I lol'd at the "bedazzler" thing, so I decided to use it.**

I run to the parachute, hoping for shoes. With shaking hands peel away the silver fabric from the two items inside.

They're both bulky, the first one a bundle of fabric and the second one a chunky piece of plastic or something. I look at the plastic first. I can't figure out what it is, but I know it must be something useful or Michael wouldn't have sent it.

Right?

Apparently Michael can be a whole lot meaner than I thought, as I found out while inspecting the thing. It took me a while, considering that I can't read the bright pink logo on the side. After trying to remember where I've seen something like this before, I remember.

It's a little girl's toy. They're expensive, but some of the richer people living in District Five give their children these things to play with.

Bedazzlers. You put sparkly matter inside, and it lets you put the rhinestone or coin or whatever into a shirt or whatever you really want to put it on.

Why would Michael send me this? Is it a message?

Then I figure out the message, it's clear enough: Do something interesting and I'll give you something good.

What? I stole from the Careers, took some of their supplies once they had blown up, killed someone at the Cornucopia, and threw my shoes at two of the tributes. How could that not be interesting?

I toss the Bedazzler at the wreckage of the Career's used-to-be supplies, and unfold the small bundle of fabric that the parachute also sent me. I hope it isn't as stupid as the Bedazzler.

I unfold the thick, white fabric, until it's in its full size. It's a shirt. But not just any shirt. I've seen this shirt before.

Staring at it, I try to figure out if it's the real thing, or just a good replica. Only one way to find out. I crush the shirt to my nose and inhale. Then gasp. It is.

Okay, let me elaborate. Jesse has this shirt, this white shirt, that has his favourite band, the Shark Hitchers, on it. Well, it has their logo, which is a shark in a top hat, and their name on it. But the bottom line is, it was like his favourite shirt, the one shirt that everybody knew him to have. If you saw somebody with that shirt on, it had to be Jesse. This is partially because it's a band from District Four, and another thing is that it's his friend's band. Yeah, he's probably the only person in the district who has friends from Four, but it just is that way. He used to live there, until his mum died and he moved to District Five to live with his dad.

So now, the shirt is mine. Or at least it's with me. And it even still smells like him. I wonder how he got it to the Control Room in the Capitol. Mail? Probably. Since I'm in the final eight, they probably interviewed him on T.V and he gave it to the reporters.

I can imagine Jesse, standing there, talking about whatever they ask him, and then at the end, slipping off his shirt (revealing a very nice looking chest) and asking for me to be sent the shirt. They probably sent it express mail, with their hovercrafts, so he could have even slipped it off ten minutes ago.

Michael would have been a fool not to send it to me in the arena.

Now the whole Bedazzler thing makes sense. Michael's message about doing something interesting relates to the shirt. He probably wants me to curl up into a fetal position, hugging the shirt, and moan to myself about Jesse for all of Panem to see.

Poor Michael, but you would think that he'd know me enough by now to know that that is _not_ what I'm going to do. Instead I slip the shirt on over the tight green one, and hug it close to my body.

The cannon suddenly booms. I wonder who it is. Probably not a Career, but maybe Fire Girl? No, but she's probably already dead. Is it Tiny, from eleven? That could be, but I don't see what would have killed her. And Huge Guy from eleven is in the fields, so it couldn't be him. Lover Boy? Cato keeps saying that it's a miracle he's not dead yet.

I guess I'll just have to wait until nighttime.

I gather the supplies from the charred supplies, and walk back to my cave. I eat a little bit of what I got from the Careers again, and drink some water. I wonder what's happening right now.

And then I hear it.

It's this singing, this really pretty singing, that just makes you smile when you hear it. But who would go around singing in the middle of the Hunger Games Arena?

The voice is singing I song I've never heard before, but the accent on the voice is definitely from a lower District, and the elongating of each vowel sounds like it's from District Twelve.

Why would Fire Girl be singing? Especially if she's dead?

There's no other choice for me but to search for her.

When I do find her, I really wish I hadn't.

She's in a little clearing of trees, holding Tiny in her lap, and singing to her. Tiny has this spear in her stomach, and looks like she's in a whole lot of pain. But Fire Girl is singing to her, her long braid tickling Tiny's face, her olive face softened.

Slowly, Tiny's life drifts away, until Fire Girl has a dead corpse in her lap. The cannon rings out through the arena, and one tear descends onto Tiny's chocolate-coloured face.

I can't take any more. I run away from the scene as quietly as I can until I find some bushes to hide in, where I puke my guts out. Knowing that either Fire Girl or the angry Careers are on camera, I just curl up into a fetal position and try to regain my breath.

It's not like I'm sad that one of my competitors died. Just, she was so small, so young, and she didn't deserve to die like that. And, I bet, that her last request was to have Fire Girl sing to her. It makes me just want to let somebody else win that deserves it.

But no, I have to win. If not for me, then for Jesse. I'm not completely vain, because I know that Jesse will want to kill himself if I die.

And I can't let him do that to himself.

He just can't.

I don't know how long I stayed in those bushes, but the cold air of night wakes me up. Then I remember that my jacket, sleeping bag, and food are all back at the cave. So I begin the trek back to the cave, trying not to freeze to death.

The Capitol anthem blares out at me, while the seal in in the sky. I watch as first Marvel, from District One, flashes in the sky.

Marvel? He must have been the one that killed Tiny, and somebody probably killed him in return.

Then Riley, of course, shimmers in the sky.

That poor kid. Died completely unfairly, his neck snapped because of a plan that worked all too well.

And then, of course, Tiny shines over the whole arena before blinking out.

Three tributes died just today. That leaves who left? Cato and Clove, of course, me, Big Guy from eleven, Fire Girl, and Lover Boy, apparently. Although if Cato isn't just bragging, he should be dead soon.

But wow, anyway. Only six of us left, out of the twenty four that originally promised their family, friends, lovers, enemies, and teachers that they'd be back, don't you worry.

They _did_ come back though, just in a nondescript wooden box as a cold, unmoving corpse.


	13. Chapter 13

**Yep, I'm back. My stupid internet isn't working right now so I decided to type up another chapter. Yay.**

The night is cold, and I shiver, deciding if I want to go back to my cave or if I want to just try and sleep in these bushes. Since I'm pretty freezing, I decide that, since the cave has my sleeping bag, I'll go back.

It's kind of rough trying to find my way back to the cave, seeing as I didn't really watch where I was going when I was searching for the source of the singing.

After a while, I find the cave, and gratefully walk inside. I'm probably going to have to change my location soon, to get a good food supply. Squirming into my sleeping bag, my thoughts are all about what to do tomorrow, figuring that three deaths were enough so that the Gamemakers won't be after us tomorrow.

Well, I could decide to begin to live on squirrels, but that doesn't really appeal to me, and stealing is so much easier. There's no reason to try and take from Cato and Clove, seeing as they probably have no food right now. I don't know about Fire Girl, but she'll be on her own now and most likely really alert. Lover Boy is probably starving with that terrible leg, so who does that leave? The Giant from District Eleven, of course.

I think it's about time to pay him a visit.

I take my pack, which is getting way too light for my taste, and head out to the edge of the forest. I look side to side, trying to see if anybody's there. But, well, it's not a small arena, and there are only six of us left.

Sprinting, I go to the other edge of the lake. My hat flies off as I'm running, and lands in the lake itself. There's no way I can fish it out now. What a shame. I creep over to the edge of the cliff and peer over the side.

It's a huge, vast field, with wavy grasses and other plants that I haven't ever seen before. I try to spot the Giant, in this field, but the grass is so tall, you can't really see him very well.

But he's there all right. In the grasses, a big shape is moving, so I decide to make the first move.

"Hello." I call, standing on the rock ledge before the field so I am very visible to him.

His gaze snaps up to me, dark brown eyes widening. I see him reach to something on his belt, but I really don't want that impaled in my head.

"I don't mean to hurt you." I say, quickly but still with the air of confidence I had earlier. "I would just like to make a deal."

He looks at me, and I can tell he doesn't believe me. So, I take one of the knives out of my jacket (Let him think it's my only one) and lay it on the ground. His eyes narrow, but he sets whatever that thing is from his belt also on the ground. I still don't know what it is, but squinting at it might be kind of weird right now.

I hop down from the little rocky ledge, and walk forward until I'm face to face with him. He's huge, huger than I thought, maybe 6'7 or so. His dark brown skin is stretched with muscle, and his face glowers at me through his long eyelashes.

"I'm Amber." I say, holding out a hand. He looks at it for a while, then takes it, shaking my hand roughly.

"Thresh." He says in a low, gruff voice.

Letting go of his hand, I say, "So, have you got any food?"

He glares, thinking that this is the only reason I've come.

"Yes." Says Thresh, picking over his answer carefully. "But why would I give it to you?"

"Good question." I say, pointing at him. "But, well, the way I see it, if you want to win, you'll need to beat your enemies. And that includes Districts Two and Twelve. And, well, you've been in this field the whole time, and I've been in the forest, with them." I stab a finger towards the woods behind me. "You're gonna need to know about them before you kill them. And _I_ know about them. All you need to give me is some food."

Now you can see my genius, although hopefully Thresh will not. I need food, there's no doubt about it, and Thresh thinks he needs knowledge. But does he? Not really. I'm not planning on giving him my _cleverness,_ just a few facts about Cato and Clove, and maybe mention how Lover Boy is badly hurt, and things that wouldn't really matter in a fight. Like, who would care if Cato got super angry that his supplies got blown up? Yeah, that's right. Nobody. But maybe Thresh will.

I can easily see him pondering my offer. His face is easy to read, no doubt. I used slang that I've heard on the streets of District Five on purpose, I want him to think I'm dumb, and will spill any secret that crosses my mind. He needs to think that in order for me to get food, therefore surviving.

He's weighing his options, until finally he barks, "Okay. You better come with me, Foxie."

I don't even bother to tell him that my name is Amber, not Foxie. It could have been a compliment, calling me sexy or cute, but coming from Thresh, I can tell that that's just what he decided to call me the moment he lay eyes on me.

Thresh leads me to a crude tent, pitched up using something from the Cornucopia. I didn't know that he fought at the bloodbath. He must've been on the other side of it or something.

He leads me inside, and sits on a sleeping bag, motioning for me to sit down on the tarp that covers the ground. I sit down, hugging my knees to my chest, as he leaves the tent. What is he doing? Is he planning on running away?

I'm just about to check outside when he returns with a big bag that he hands to me. Peeling open the bag, I peer into its contents.

Food! There's no meat, but plenty of roots, berries, plants, and even bread that he got somehow. Who knows, maybe Thresh made it himself. But all I care about is that all of it's edible. I stuff Thresh's bag into my own. I look up to find him staring at me.

Sitting up tall, I wait for him to make the first move. He does, after a while. "So, what are the tributes like?" He asks me.

"Uh, who do you wanna know about first?" I ask, still trying to sound stupid.

"How about District Two."

"Mmkay. Uh, Cato, the guy, he's really big and strong, like you." I giggle at this, fakely of course. "And he's totally got a crush on Clove, the girl. They like to hunt at night, it's their favourite time."

"Go on."

"And Clove, she throws knives real good. Cato, he can cut pretty well with just about any weapon, but he likes swords, sharp wicked ones. Cato can fight good, but he's real dumb, you see. He's also not very fast. Like, he couldn't catch up with me when I was running." I say. Remembering all this slang is annoying me.

"They were running after you?" Thresh inquires.

"Yeah, but then I led 'em to Fire Girl on accident." I say, hoping he knows what girl I'm talking about.

"Fire Girl…" He murmurs, then smiles. "District Twelve?"

"That's the one. She's alive, but her ally just died."

"Who was her ally?"

"The tiny girl from ele- from your District." I reply.

"Yes, yes. I didn't know her well, but she…" Thresh trailed off, looking sad.

I change the subject. "And Lover Boy, you know, from Twelve, he's alive too. But Cato cut him up real bad, so he should be dead any day now."

"So where is he?"

"That's the problem, you see. After Cato cut him, he just ran off, and now nobody knows where he is.

Thresh nods, seeming not to notice me anymore. "How did the little one die?" He asks absentmindedly.

"Spear in the stomach. From District One."

"Is he dead now?"

"Yes. He's dead now." You would think that he never watches the nightly death toll or something.

He nods. "That's enough. Thanks, Foxie. We don't owe each other nothing, remember."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks Thresh." I say, running away back into the forest.

What a messed up kid he is.


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry I haven't updated, I've been busy. But here you go, all you lovelies:**

As I snuggle into the cold hard ground, I can't help but think about the missing warmth next to me. But who would it even belong to, anyway? An ally in the Games?

The more I think about it, the smarter it seems to have an ally. But there's nobody left for me. Who would I even be allies with, anyway? If I had gone with Josh, who knows what could have happened. But he's been dead for a while now. Maybe I could have joined with Devin, the boy whose death I caused indirectly with the throw of a shoe. But he had a bad leg, so Devin would probably just be dead weight on me. The Careers? Surely not, they've been dying faster than any of us out here. Tiny probably wouldn't be of much use, she was so small. And she's dead anyway. Not to mention I think she was allies with Fire Girl. And I couldn't be with Fire Girl, surely not, she's too… She just has… I just can't, okay? And then of course there's Thresh, who is a little too crazy for me to want to hang out with all the time.

The Capitol anthem breaks my thoughts as the seal flashes in the sky, followed by no deaths today. The Gamemakers will probably try to shake things up tomorrow. But wait.

"There's been a rule change." announces Claudius Templesmith. A rule change? What's that supposed to mean? "If two tributes from the same District survive, they can be both declared the winner."

Oh. Okay then. I don't really care. Tommy died a while ago.

Who would even care about this rule change, anyway? I guess Cato and Clove could benefit from it, and so could Fire Girl and Lover Boy, if they can even keep Lover Boy alive long enough to win.

But this is also a disadvantage to me and Thresh, the two tributes who can't use this new rule. Now we'll be teamed up on more than before, since the District teams won't worry about killing each other.

Well, crap.

I fall asleep trying to think up ways to stay alive long enough to see Jesse's face again.

When I wake up, it's light out. In the Games, you can never tell what time it really is, unless you've mastered reading the sun. But why would I, growing up with clocks everywhere? So I really never know what time it is, just if it's dark or light outside. And it's light now.

I'm hungry. Glad for Thresh's bread, I eat a loaf of it, wondering how in the world he came up with bread.

What to do today, what to do. Seriously, I'm not kidding, the Hunger Games are boring me right now.

It's a nice, sunny day, hotter than it's been for a while, so I take off the long sleeve shirt that came with all the tributes in the arena and I put on Jesse's shirt again. The fabric feels good against my skin, and although it doesn't cling to me like the green shirt, it hangs in just the right way.

I look around me. I'm in my cave that I've been in for the duration of the Games, but I now realize I've never really studied it.

At first glance, you would think that it's just a limestone cave. But when you look closely, you see that there's a bunch of tiny stones in it, and I think that some are crystals, because some of them are shinier and prettier than the grey stone that makes up most of the wall. Vines creep up from the ceiling, squeezing in through small cracks above me and making twirling green garlands all around me that end just at my shoulders when I'm sitting down. The floor is hard packed dirt, like most of the forest, and it doesn't make your butt too dirty when you sit on it. But, my cave is a lot less pretty than it was when I first got here, and there are plenty of signs of me living here for a week or so. The ground has my footprints, light but noticeable if you're looking for them, crumbs of food here and there, evidence of my one and only fire.

Then it hits me, what I'm going to do today: Today is moving day.

If you've ever moved houses, you'll know that it's very hard to do. If you've ever moved caves in the Hunger Games, you'll know that it's a little depressing. Because, as it turns out, my only belongings are my food and water bag, my sleeping bag, my green shirt, jacket, a little tinder, the raincoat I took from the Careers the first time I ever stole from them, and my knives. There's something depressing about being able to carry everything you own at the moment on your back, and not even exert yourself.

My new home should be near a water source, but maybe not too obvious. Another cave is ideal, and if not, under some trees would be good. Just anything that'll protect me from harsh weather.

After wandering for a while, I stumble upon a stream with a lazy current running over smooth pebbles. The water is cool and clear, and looks pure for drinking. I take a sip of it to make sure. It's not even warm, and it seems clean enough. So I refill my water skin, and spot a few fish lazily swimming through the stream. They look easy enough to catch, if you have a spear. Which I don't, but a knife will have to do.

This is a perfect place to be. Looking around, I see that there are small caves in between boulders with sandy floors. Sand! Can you imagine? This is as good a place as any to move to.

So I stoop inside the biggest cave I can find. It's not too roomy, only tall enough that I can stoop without smacking my head on the stone top. A short inspection of the ceiling shows that there are a few cracks, but it should hold pretty well in the rain. I take the light burden off my back, unrolling the sleeping bag and setting out my raincoat. It's just a waterproof windbreaker, really, nothing special. But I don't need heat, I still have my original jacket that everybody in this arena has. Unless somebody lost it, but they would have to be extremely stupid to lose their jacket, of anything. Although I did lose my hat in the lake, I don't think I'll need it too much. In fact, it's way too hot today for my taste. In District Five, the hottest day of summer would probably never go higher than 17 C, tops. And now it must have been at least 35 C, something I don't think I've ever felt in my entire life.

Being from District Five, you _know_ how to be cold, you do it every day. We're the most northern district of all of them, the farthest south being Eleven. So I bet Thresh was just fine with this high temperature, but when we get to the negatives at night, he'll be shivering while I'm basking in the cold.

I don't get cold like normal girls, or at least, not as fast. While we'd be walking to school, my friends would be hugging their arms, complaining "Oh, it's so cold!" and teasingly saying "You cold yet, Amber?" I sigh, remembering the way that I would float around to talk and tease with everyone at school, how they all knew me, either by the name "Amber", "Fox Girl", "Jesse" (Yeah, they called me Jesse once in a while because it was easier just to remember his name than both of ours, and apparently we look alike or something. They used to think he was my brother. Not anymore.), "Shimmer" or "Kwanee". All these names I had earned, from one experience or another.

I wish I still lived the life. But I don't. Now, no matter if I win or not, I'll live the cursed life of one of the twisted tributes from the Hunger Games.

**Yay, finally I get a chapter done. I'll try to get another chapter out by the day after tomorrow, but no promises. Of the three fanfics I am working on, this is my first priority. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Hullo, everybody! I love you! I'm feeling happy today, can you tell? **

I sat down in the new cave and huffed. The only problem with my new home is this huge opening that anybody could just peer into and see me, asleep, and they could kill me real easily. Camouflage was never my strong suit, even in the training center when I tried my hardest, and it's not like I have all the available colours and textures like the center.

My best bet is to obviously go with rocks, since ivy and vines don't naturally grow in this part of the arena. I look around, trying to spot rocks that are large enough to cover the mouth of the cave, yet not so large as to not allow my slim build to lift it.

That's why I wish I was just a little bigger than I am. I've always been skinny and not very strong naturally, and I've been jealous of the naturally muscular girls that were much, much bigger than me all my life. But of course, those girls always complained that they wish they were smaller, like me. I bet if you lived in the Capitol, they would enhance you to be exactly what you want.

After about an hour of moving rocks, I'm sweaty, nasty-smelling, and only semi-pleased with the pile of rocks outside the cave that looks like it's maybe caved in. But if you look closely at it, you could probably tell that a person made it. I'm about to tear it all down in anger when I hear a sound, like feet dragging in the smooth pebbles of the stream. I dive into the cave and hide into the darkest pocket that I can find, hoping that whoever is meandering down the stream won't look too hard at my new dwelling, and see the manmade pile of boulders hiding most of the entrance.

When the sound gets closer, I realize it must be two people, not one. Cato and Clove, maybe? No, because they would most likely be back at the lake, they never wanted to hang out in the forest much. No, too unlike their environment, they prefer the lake over the woods, because it must remind them more of their big houses and whatever else they have in shiny District Two.

The two people, whom I have concluded to being Fire Girl and Lover Boy, since they're the only two that could possibly be wandering about in the stream, stop right in front of my cave.

_Please don't let them notice me,_ I pray silently, _please._

And you know what? They don't notice me, even if I'm pressing my eyes up to a crack in the rocks that lead out to the stream. This is obviously due to Lover Boy's pained expression.

Huh. So Cato wasn't kidding when he said that Lover Boy is hurt bad. I don't know what's up with him, but his face is as pale as mine that morning where I drank during the night, except his face is really sweaty. He can't walk, only limp, leaning mostly on Fire Girl, who looks about ready to pass out from his weight. I don't blame her, she's a tiny thing, maybe six inches shorter than me although only a year younger, and maybe a little less skinny, because she has so many obvious muscles. I don't see how she got those muscles, considering how she lives in District Twelve, the one with the starved, skinny kids. I haven't seen much of her, but if she wants to camp with me like she looks about to, I'm sure I'll find out.

"Here, Peeta, let's just stay in here, okay?" Fire Girl points to a pretty wide cave about 10 yards away from me. Crap.

"Okay." Lover Boy agrees with her, and just about collapses inside the cave. Fire Girl follows him, and they try to make a home out of the cave that they just found.

Well this sucks. I know that Michael and all the Capitol freaks who are probably glued to their TVs right now will want me to kill them in the night while one of them is keeping watch. But that's not my style. I'd rather kill them indirectly, set a trap for them, or maybe just let Thresh or Cato or Clove kill them. Direct confrontation, again, is not my style.

So, I guess it's moving time again. Stupid Fire Girl. It's all her fault, I don't know why yet, but I'll find out. It would be nice for her to die soon. She's kind of annoying. Always all like "teehehehe" In the Capitol but apparently now she's going all ninja or something… Ignore my ranting, please.

So, when Fire Girl is too occupied with Lover Boy, (seriously, she's kissing him, eugh), I slip away, my whole pack in tow. I ease into the forest, right out of the line of trees, and their field of view if they wanted to keep watch or something.

NOW where do I go? I don't want to do any more wandering, it's getting a little dark, so I go the one place that I'm pretty sure another tribute is besides Thresh: The Lake.

Yes, yes, Cato and Clove are here, but they certainly don't look happy. Obviously, they're very hungry, since a certain girl who used to be on fire blew up there supplies. That's one good thing that she did.

Anyway, Cato and Clove are sitting at the lake, trying to eat the tiny bit of food they found from their black supply mountain.

"Cato, we need to hunt." Clove says, her high voice piercing the hot air.

"Yeah, yeah, you already told me that! Why don't YOU go and shoot a rabbit? Huh Clove?" Cato replied gruffly, flinging the charred, soggy piece of bread he was pretending to make edible aside.

Clove's pale face reddens. "Sorry, it's just…"

"I know, I'm sorry too. We're both real hungry and we need food. We'll try to get some plants tomorrow. You remember anything from the Training Center?"

"A little…" Clove sounds uncertain.

"That's good. But for now, we just have to deal with it." Cato sounds uneven. Clove crawls slowly over to him and sits herself on his lap. _What the Hell is happening? _

Cato leans down and kisses her, right on the lips. They're both really into it, like they're eating eachother, which now that I think about it, they might both be considering.

Then Cato starts to pull of Clove's shirt, and I look away. Two relationships in one Games? I guess with this new rule change, relationships are inevitable.

But I bet that the cameras are turning a blind eye to Cato and Clove's relationship, because it's a little more… er… _intimate_ than Fire Girl and Lover Boy. Ew, now I'm just grossing myself out.

So where to live where I don't have to be in the middle of a sappy romance?

The middle of the freaking forest, that's where. In my favourite place: the shrubbery. I put my sleeping bag in a partially-comfortable bush, and lay down on the ground, even though it's just starting to get dark.

The sky shows nobody again, and unless the Capitol is really pleased with District Twelve, something's definitely going to happen tomorrow.

The night is freezing, and I curl up in my sleeping bag and shiver. Tonight is going to suck so bad.


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm really uber sorry that I haven't updated… it's just that I felt guilty about my **_**Gone**_** fanfic and how I haven't been updating that, and my parents want me to get extra difficult math and so I've been dealing with that, and sports are vamping up, and of course my teachers all are giving me so much freaking homework.**

**Note: Angsty chapter. I couldn't think of any way to kill time, it's an empty day for the Games. Amber's going a little coocoo.**

**But that's boring, so I guess I owe all of you this nice long chapter:**

When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I feel is my head pounding. Figures. Terrible day, terrible headache.

More than anything, I wish I had some of that painkiller stuff that they have in the Capitol. Or maybe just a cup of black coffee. Or some chocolate. Or one of those delicious meals that the fancy chefs make for them all. It's hard to imagine that there was a time, even just a two week period, that I actually ate that.

But now I'm reduced to eating a little bit of root and water for breakfast. If I were in the Capitol, I'd be eating a plate stuffed with pancakes, rolls, eggs, sausage, and drinking orange juice, hot chocolate, and milk, all in one meal. If I were back at home in good old freezing District Five, I'd probably be eating some bland oatmeal, cold and gloppy or warm and pasty, depending. Anything would be better than this. No offense to Thresh, of course, but roots don't taste very good, no matter where they come from. I've never been a fan of vegetables, anyway, and they don't fill you up well enough. And again, all I do is practical. Practical, which means no eating things that don't fill me up.

I sigh. What to do, what to do. It's like what I felt yesterday, just so, so much worse. Instead of just not knowing what to do, I just lost the will to do anything. There's nothing to do, and even if there was, I wouldn't want to do it.

Suddenly, I'm craving another person. You've probably never felt this before, seeing as you sit at home, alone or not, but I'm so alone right now. So, so alone. See, there's a difference between being alone and utterly alone. Alone, which is what most people experience sometimes in their life, is when you don't have people in the room, or vicinity, or whatever that you are. But you know that soon, you'll have people around you, whether you like it or not.

No, but utterly alone, that's something completely different. This, this is when I'm so alone, that there are only five other living people in this world that is my home, and I know for a fact that all of them need to kill me to get out of this world. No friends, no person who is close to me, all I have in my life is my own mind. And I need to shatter that just a little bit more, because I know for a fact that I'll need to kill more people in order to leave this world, and enter the one I've known all my life. Or maybe, when I win, I'll end up in my own world, like some of those other victors from my district.

Sometimes I can hear them screaming at night.

No, I won't turn into one of those rich, insane winners. Because I'll have someone. Jesse. When I get a big, fancy house in Victor's Village, I'll move in with Jesse. I'll ignore my foster parent's pleas of living with me, ignore Christopher trying to mooch off of my money, and Jesse will be my new life. But then he'll have to stand for one more reaping, and a Victor's lover? Everyone knows they rig the drawing when that sort of thing happens. So maybe we'll keep ourselves a secret until after Jesse's eighteenth Reaping, and then we'll get married and live happily ever after.

Like a fairy tale.

If I don't go crazy first.

Thinking of Jesse makes me almost start to cry. I can't remember when the last time I cried was. So, maybe just this once…

As if on cue, a tear drops down my face and seeps into Jesse's T-shirt that I'm hugging close to myself. More tears dribble out of my eyes, and suddenly I'm gasping for breath, sighing out water from my eyes and they're running into my hair. Before I know it, I'm sitting up, still in a fetal position, and sobbing just a little more but now I'm almost dry.

Without really thinking, I give myself orders. _Stand up. Drink water. Walk forwards._  
>Wait, forwards? Where am I going? My feet seem to have a mind of their own, carrying me somewhere in the forest. I don't know where I'm going, but my body seems to.<p>

Then the shrubs next to me rustle. I pull out my knife, and get into a fighting stance. Who is it? Cato? Clove? Fire Girl? Thresh? It might even be Lover Boy for all I know.

But you know what? It's none of them. You know who stepped out of the bushes and stood next to me? Jesse. That's who.

Of course he wasn't real, I know that. My mind, it made him up. Am I crazy already? Maybe, but if being crazy gets me Jesse here in this forest, who cares?

"Hey Lovely," He says. My mind is doing well, thinking this boy up, because that's exactly how he normally greets me.

"Hi," I smile at him. I really hope the cameras aren't on me, they won't get it, they'll see me talking to air. But I'm not talking to air. The air that they see is the Jesse I see.

"I've been watching what you've been doing here." He tells me, frowning only slightly.

"I'm sorry." I say. I know that I've done some bad things in this Arena.

"Don't worry. The Careers have been much, much worse." Jesse shudders, his whole torso moving with the act.

"Yes. They have." I agree with him, taking in his face. I know he's not real, but my mind conjured him with amazing skill. Every last freckle matches the real Jesse. If I didn't know better, I would have thought that he was actually right here, next to me.

"Where are you going?" He asks me, cocking his head to one side.

I surprise myself by answering him. "Thresh's place."

Huh. So I guess I know where I'm going now.

"Okay," He replies, "Let's go."

He tries to grab my hand and hold it, but since he's not real, his hand just passes through me. We both frown, and I just concentrate a little bit harder, and his hand becomes solid. Now we can hold hands in peace.

When I break the cover of the trees, I'm surprised to see Cato and Clove there. _Oh yeah,_ I think, _They live here._ I scurry back into the trees and hide. Cato and Clove aren't looking past the lake, they're too busy clutching their stomachs and being hungry.

Jesse sees me watching them. "They're hungry." He comments.

"Yeah." I say. It's true.

"We're not." There's a part of me that knows that the real Jesse would never talk like this, but maybe he would if we really were in this arena together. But we aren't. Hopefully the next time I see Jesse will be back at home, and the next time he sees me is when I'm alive.

No, no death thoughts. I'm gonna win. I just have to.

"Yo! Thresh!" I shout once I ascend the cliff to Thresh's territory. I drop Jesse's hand.

"They can't see you." I say.

Jesse just nods. He understands.

Thresh creeps out of his tent, holding a stone to throw. But he sees it's me, and he lowers his stone.

"Oi, Foxie!" He calls to me, beckoning me over. You would think we were old friends, even if we did just talk once before. I jog over to where he is, Jesse keeping good pace beside me.

"Hey Thresh." I say, panting just a little bit.

"What's up Foxie? You want more food? 'cause I don't think I'mma give it to you." Thresh says, slanting his eyes.

I shake my head. "No, Thresh. I just wanted to say hi."

"Hi."

I roll my eyes. I point to Jesse, who's standing just next to me, studying Thresh.

"This is Jesse." I introduce them. "Jesse, this is Thresh."

"I've seen him on TV." Jesse replies smoothly.

Thresh just looks at me warily. "And Jesse is your…"

"Boyfriend. From District Five." I say, my head held high.

Thresh surprisingly puts his hands on my shoulders. Jesse makes a move to stop him but I wave a hand.

"Foxie. This boy, Jacob," he begins.

"Jesse." I correct stubbornly.

"Yeah, sure. Jesse. Foxie, he's not here, you know that. Right?"

I nod quietly. "Yes. I know. He's just… He's here. In my mind."

Thresh nods like he understands. Hell, for all I know, he might.

"Yes. In your mind, Foxie." He says.

Thresh must feel kind of sentimental or something because he gives me some water and bread with a little bit of rabbit on it and orders me to eat.

I oblige, although I don't feel like it. I know that I'm crying, but I just can't bring myself to stop.

Thresh covers me in a blanket, and I realize it's starting to get dark. He gets into his tent, and I see the sky. Nobody died today. I'm about to curl up on the ground and sleep when there's some trumpet playing.

"Tributes! Congratulations, the six of you that are left! Districts Two, Five, Eleven, and Twelve, I'd like to invite you all to a feast! But don't wave it off just yet. Each of you needs something very much."

It's true. I need shoes. Or some sort of anti-crazy meds. Or water. Or Jesse.

"This item will be in a backpack with your District number on it early tomorrow morning. Thanks, and may the odds be ever in your favour!" He finishes, and the trumpets turn off.

A backpack? Well, I don't think they can stuff Jesse into a backpack, but I could get some shoes, which I will really need with these nights getting colder. You don't really realize that shoes keep you so very warm until you don't have them.

So I'll go to this feast for them. I'll go, sure. I peel of Thresh's blanket, and head to the Cornucopia.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey people, this chapter made me shiver. HAHAHHA you'll get it later. But yeah, I just want to warn you, there's a curse word in here. Nothing but the word "shit", but if you don't like that, then skip that part. **

**Oh, yes, and THRESH ALERT! Can you guys tell that Thresh was one of my favourite characters in the book?**

**As a gift, I think I would like YOU to review this story! Thanks!**

I trudge on the field, my bare feet making barely a whisper in the cold grass. I shiver, and just keep reminding myself that shoes are on the way.

Quickly looking around to make sure that no tributes have arrived yet, I slowly make my way to the Cornucopia. A rush of cool air hits me as I stick my head inside the giant metal horn. _Too bad this is your place for the night, _I think.

Which reminds me. Jesse disappeared once I started coming over here, and now I don't know where he is. Oh, well. It was good while it lasted. I sit down inside the cornucopia, hugging my hands around my knees. My mind wanders all the way to my warm sleeping bag, which is just sitting on the forest floor somewhere. How could I have been so stupid as to just leave it there? In the Cornucopia it feels like a giant freezer. I don't even have a freaking jacket, because I left that in the forest, too.

Knowing that there is no way at all that I will sleep, instead I try to think about what will happen when I win. I'll have to spend a few days in the Capitol, of course, getting interviewed and such, but then I'll get to get on another huge train for a day or so and then I'll be home. Jesse will be there waiting for me when I get off the train, obviously. They always have a few people who are close to the Victor there. I've seen it on TV. Probably they'll have my foster parents there, even though I don't care about them. My brother Christopher, possibly. Maybe even Tara and Riley, my two friends. But there's no way that they wouldn't put Jesse on that list, because he's the only one I would want to see.

I shiver and try to stay warm, compacting myself into a ball. It's a possibility to die from being too cold, right? Of course it is. There are many people in District Five who don't have jackets for the winter, and then when they go outside, they freeze. Sometimes, just for a little bit, they're really cold, but they only have to run outside to get into another building or on one of the old busses that brings people around. But more often than not, they have to stay out there for some sort of lab testing, then eventually die. It's so common it doesn't even alert the newspaper.

Am I freezing to death? I struggle to remember those simple rules they reminded us of every year. Symptoms of hypothermia… Constant shivering, yes, I have that. Drowsiness… Yes, I am feeling a little tired. Slowing heart rate… I can't bring myself to check, my hands are too clumsy. Yes, and clumsiness is definitely one of the symptoms as well.

Then it hits me, kind of, because I can't think straight.

I'm dying.

You would think Michael would realize this right now, but he's too thick to realize, or he just wants me to die.

"Micullll," I slur, another symptom of hypothermia. "Die-ng. Too col'."

Suddenly, a silver parachute drops down to the mouth of the Cornucopia. I jump to it to the best of my ability in my freezing state. I open the parachute slowly, forgetting what I need it for. There's a package. I open the package. There are a few paper packs in there. Huh. I wonder what they're for.

I pick up one of the packages. It's small, and boring. I'm about to toss it over my shoulder when I realize that it's burning my skin.

"CRAP!" I accidentally shout, and then hurry to cover my mouth. Somebody might find me and… What? What would somebody do to me? I forget.

I open the smaller package. Inside is a blanket.

_Oh, that's good. I'm cold._ I think, wrapping the blanket around me. It seems to be electric or something, because it's much too warm. I throw it off me.

Footsteps, I can hear them. Even in my dilapidated state, I can hear them. I wonder who it is. Who could it be? I'm hiding.

"Foxie?" A voice. I just want to go to sleep, I wish this person would go away.

"Go away." I murmur.

"Foxie? I don't think you're okay." I vaguely connect the voice to the person. Thresh. Hmm.

"No, no." I say quietly.

He touches my arm. It burns. "Foxie, you're blue." He sounds scared.

"Yes." I reply, not quite caring.

"I think you're dying."

"Probably."

"Shit, You're dying!" He shouts, throwing the blanket over me. I try to pull it off, but my body won't do what I want. So I leave it, although it hurts my skin.

"What to do to a freezing person? How should I know?" Thresh mutters under his breath. District Eleven is all warm, so I doubt he even owns a winter coat or anything. He can't play doctor in this situation, though. Poor guy.

"Check the pulse." He murmurs, dropping to the ground. He puts a hot hand on my wrist, and counts a little bit. "It's there, but barely." He shakes his head. "I have to get you out of your frozen clothes."

Frozen? Now that's not true. Is it? Actually, I really don't know. I can't feel my clothes.

Wincing, he pulls off Jesse's shirt, and then the green shirt that's under that. Then, with a little grunt of awkwardness, he takes off my pants so I'm just in underwear and a bra, underneath the blanket. Working quickly, Thresh rips open another one of the three packages to get another blanket. He lays that one on the floor of the Cornucopia and folds it over so it's a thick almost-carpet.

"Foxie, can you move onto there for me?" He asks gently, but there's distress in his tone. I roll myself on top of the carpet and curl up, ready for sleep.

"I wish I had something better than blankets…" Thresh says to nobody in particular. But Michael must be paying attention because soon there's another parachute, this one holding a mug of something. He grabs it and holds it up to my lips. "Drink, please?" He begs. I obey. The liquid is warm, not too hot, but pleasant. It's sweet, and thick, delicious. Soon the mug is empty.

Thresh looks around, not knowing what to do. Then, quickly, he whips off his shirt, revealing a nicely toned chest, and wraps me in it. Suddenly, he's down next to me, incasing me in warm arms, trying to warm me up.  
>My mind is slowly coming back to me now, and I can think clearly again. As far as hypothermia treatment goes, Thresh is doing pretty well. If we could, he should have taken me to a warm shelter, but that's not going to happen, so this isn't bad. Besides, his arms are nicely muscled, and warm, and I'm enjoying this a whole lot more than I should. Good thing Jesse isn't here.<p>

We stay like that for a while, him holding me close and me shivering, until finally, the shivering stops. He breathes a sigh of relief and pulls back from me a little bit.

Just a little bit.

"Why are you in here, anyway?" He asks me. "You were freezing to death when I came here."

"It's for the feast. You know, since we're supposed to be here." I say, looking up at his face, which is in extremely close proximity to mine.

"Mmmmm." He says, closing his eyes. But I'm not done with him yet.

"Why did you even come here, anyway?"

His eyes snap open. "I heard you shout. I thought something was wrong." There are two spots of colour on his dark cheeks.

"Why didn't you let me die?"

"I thought… I thought it was the Careers, hurting you, and I thought, well, I thought, 'Nobody should die like that.' So I came."

"But you'll have to kill me anyway." My voice sounds pouty and flimsy to even my own ears.

"No, no. Don't worry about that." He murmurs in my ear, brushing some hair away from my face. Suddenly I realize that I am almost naked under a blanket with a half-naked boy most likely on live television.

Oh, my life, I love you so.

As the sun's first rays nibble at the cliff, Thresh sighs.

"I'll have to go now." He says to the ceiling. Then he turns to me. "Stay warm, okay?"

I nod, and then he's leaning down, and I have no clue what's about to happen, but then suddenly his rough lips are on mine, my face cupped in his hands, my arms slid around his neck.

I don't know how long we were like that, but then Thresh pulls away and runs a hand over my cheek. Then he turns and runs off.

I touch my cheek, and all I can think about is how much I wish he stayed.

Oh yeah, and how scared I am that Jesse saw that.


	18. Chapter 18

**I really have nothing to say… Except that WARNING: another curse word. It's bitch this time. T**

**OH YEAH so sorry this chapter's all short and stuff and it's really bad, but I'm really not in the mood to write, but I feel obligated. SO. And haha, I hope you like her "what she needs" item. **

_Now this isn't right. _I think, watching Thresh quickly bound away to his home. Not even logical. Six tributes left, three romances? But no, Thresh and I aren't a romance. He just kissed me, that's all. It wouldn't make sense, anyway, for us to have a romance. At least with Fire Girl and Lover Boy, and Cato and Clove, it makes sense, because they could both win these Games. But Thresh and I, we're from completely different districts, so a romance, or even an alliance, doesn't make sense.

The sun rises a little higher in the east, and I'm standing at the mouth of the giant freezing metal horn, realizing that I'm still wrapped in Thresh's shirt. I quickly take it off, pulling on my still cold original shirts, then put his on over it all. I'm just adding to my collection of guy's shirts.

The day gets lighter, lighter, until I'm wondering where, exactly, is this backpack of mine? There's a prickle at the back of my neck, and then suddenly, a table is rising up out of the ground. It's probably the cleanest thing I've seen in a while, with a crisp white tablecloth and mahogany legs. As soon as the rough ground snaps back into place, I'm shooting out of the Cornucopia without even stopping to realize that it's probably a very stupid idea, sprinting to the table, and grabbing the medium-sized dark green backpack with a big yellow number five on it. I race into the woods, appalled that nobody killed me.

Actually no, it makes sense. I didn't grab anybody else's backpack, so they probably were too afraid of losing their own pack to chase me down. Hah, so my plan actually was smart, not stupid.

I sit in a little bit of bushes and watch the rest of the feast go out, not even bothering to open my pack yet. Everybody is still just waiting in the shrubs, taking in what I just did, and then there's somebody, a girl's figure, sprinting out of the brush. I recognize the long black braid and tiny build of Fire Girl, whose backpack is the tiny orange one that could fit around somebody's arm. A knife gets thrown, probably by Clove, but it misses her. Fire Girl sends an arrow flying, she's not bad with that aim, and it catches Clove in the wrist. She cries out.

That bitch.

Clove isn't dead though, and she throws another knife at Fire Girl once she has the tiny orange one. This knife doesn't miss, and hits her right in the forehead.

_Yes._ I think silently, as her head starts bleeding profusely. Clove runs over and pins Fire Girl down by her hair.

"Foxie!" A hushed voice calls to me. I turn in the brush, and there's Thresh. He's too close to me for me to pretend not to hear him, only about a foot away. So I look at him.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

I gasp a little bit, and send myself tumbling a little bit. Only one person has said that to me before, and that's Jesse. But this, this is completely new.

"Why are you telling me this?" I say, worried. What's up? _No, you don't care. Thresh needs to die. _I try to tell myself firmly, but when I look into his big brown eyes, I melt.

"I might die soon. I probably will. My pack, it's got a weapon in it, hopefully. Something big, so that I can take out Cato and Clove. It'll probably have something real useful, like armour. **A/N: Do you understand? **So, Foxie, all I gotta tell you is, I'm going down soon, but with as many people as I can. So you gotta win this thing, alright? For me. Now here." He says, and takes a something from around his neck. It's this necklace, with a small wooden carved charm in the shape of some sort of flower on it. The flower is being cut by something, and these little dots are everywhere, carved into the softly oiled smooth wood. I look up to Thresh.

"It's a Thresh, like I am." He says, a little smile on his lips. Then, he slips the leather cord over my head so the charm lays right on my heart.

"Bye, loser." He says, running off to go throw some stones at the Careers.

WELL.

I decide to hurry away and find a place to go look at my new shoes, so I run off into the forest, half hoping that Thresh dies, and half hoping that he lives.

You know that you're pretty screwed up when you hope that your good friend dies.

Wait, did I just think that? Good friend? No, that can't be right… I just met him, didn't I? A week ago, at most. You can't just make a good friend in a week.

Unless you're in the Hunger Games.

And then there's this whole issue with me calling me loser. Was that just because he wanted to be funny and make a bad stab at humour? Or was he getting somewhere, saying that I'm not going to win the Hunger Games? Was it a mean hint, which I'm going to die? I goddamn hope not.

I sneak into the brush a ways away from the Cornucopia, and hear the boom of the death cannon. I wonder who that was. My heart hopes that it's Fire Girl, which it could very well be, but my gut wrenches when I realize it could be Thresh.

But NO, I can't care about him.

I open the backpack.

Inside the medium-sized green bag, there's a lumpy shape wrapped in tissue paper.

Getting fancy, are we?

I unwrap the tissue paper and suck in a breath, waiting for the shoes I am so ready to get. But then I let out a little scream.

But it's not shoes.

Nope, not shoes at all.

It's a bunny. And a warm coat.

Or at least I think it's a bunny. We don't actually have live bunnies in the Science District, only "prepared" rabbits, which is a fancy way to say dead bunnies.

But what am I supposed to do with a bunny? Eat it? No, I already have food. Skin it? I'm not so cold anymore now that they gave me the warm coat. The coat is bright blue, not a good camo colour, but it'll do.

But this bunny, what am I supposed to do with this? Cuddle? No, that can't be it. Or is it?

Do the Gamemakers think I need something soft to cuddle with above all else?

**Sorry it's so short!**


	19. Chapter 19

**People, people. I love you guys, you know that? I'm so sorry that updates are slower and sloooooower and sloooooooooooooooooooooower but my SYOT and I have a ton of end-of-tri stuff that I need to do for school because we go by trimesters and the end of tri one is the twenty eighth so I need to do so much but I love you all and your reviews are what keep me going. Serious, review me please.**

**And can you tell that I wrote most of this early in the morning, like 3 AM?**

Tonight has to be the worst night I've spent in the Hunger Games, hands down. I'm in a patch of brush that I'm afraid does not disguise me at all, worrying myself sick about Thresh, with this, this _thing_ hopping around me, like my world isn't crashing down on me. It's grey, with big brown eyes and these cute little ears and- Oh, I just can't look at it.

I pick up the backpack, determined to use it as a pillow. I'm allowed at least one comfort when I'm trying to keep from collapsing. I put my head on the bundled up green canvas, but something hard smacks my ear as I lay my head on it. Sighing, I reach into the green bag again, and close my fingers around something hard and rectangular. The little plastic rectangle gets pulled out of the backpack, and I stare at it incomprehensibly. It has some sort of black writing on it, but I can't read it. Obviously.

Why would Michael send me something that I can't read?

I open the box anyway, hoping that it's not something poisonous that read on the label "WARNING: DO NOT ATTEMPT TO OPEN, THIS IS POISON AMBER, SO DON'T OPEN IT, DAMMIT."

There's something in the box, this little piece of paper on top of the rest of it. Mmm, does the paper have a note on it? Because if it does, that's just plain mean.

I open up the paper, and sure enough, there's a note. It's typed in small black letters. How rude.

"I can't read, dumbass." I say to the air, hoping that I'm on the television at this moment. Rolling my eyes, I set the note in my pocket. I won't use it. But this thing that was in the black box, this, is something useful.

The one weapon I can really use.

A boomerang.

Ahaha, I know what you're thinking. _Oh, Amber's a Mary sue now, is that it? She can use a boomerang AND a knife? And she has a fiancé? Oh no, I must stop reading her story right this instant because I can't stand Sues. _

And you, you intolerant jerk, should know that I am NOT, I repeat, NOT, a Sue. I am proud of my failures. Well, not really, but this is turning into a Crackfic, and I am not a seventeen year old guy named Corbin, I am a seventeen year old warrior named Amber, so I must continue on with this story.

I can't really use a knife, I have to admit. I mean, who can't hold a knife, and wave it around? Have you ever really seen me do anything with a knife besides assault a Gamemaker? No? Well, that's because I can't really use one.

A BOOMERANG, however, I can use. It makes sense, really, because in our mutt research at school, as we get older, we really start to work with real mutts. And with mutts, you never know when one's going to turn on you, so it is a school requirement for every person over the age of fifteen that is in the Mutt Research Program (More commonly called the MRP, or the slang term "Merp") that you must know how to use a weapon. Not a huge weapon, like a sword or axe or something, but something small like a knife, boomerang, or wooden bat. Those are the three recommended weapons. Mine is boomerang. So I can use one, or at least I can better than other weapons.  
>Now the real question: how the hell do they know that I can use a boomerang?<p>

Now that I know that I have a weapon I'm more comfortable with, I rest my head on the now-empty backpack and close my eyes, ready for sleep.

The Capitol anthem starts blaring, right on time, of course. Up in the sky, one tribute is shining over the rest of us. It's Clove.

Wait, what? Who killed Clove? But of course, the sky isn't going to tell me, and Clove disappears. I anxiously wait to see if anybody else died today, but Clove is the only one who gets projected through the sky, her simple headshot fading away into the darkness.

I really want to know what happened at this feast. How is Fire Girl not dead yet? Last time I saw her, she was being almost killed by Clove. Maybe Lover Boy saved her, but I thought he was hurt real bad.

It's all so confusing.

As I drift off to sleep, I try to forget everything else that has happened in the almost-two weeks I've been in this House of Horrors that they call an Arena.

Huh. Only two weeks. I feel like it's been months, not weeks. Time seems to fly by when you are constantly running from your enemies, trying to make up for tragic losses, and fighting for your life.

The Hunger Games is like a demented summer camp, if you think about it.

I wake up to the steady beat of rain everywhere. I roll over, only to realize that I am laying in what used to be a soft patch of grass, but has now become a puddle of mud. I stand up, covered in water, and sigh. Everything on me is soaked, from my hair to my bare feet. I squelch around a little bit, getting all my supplies into the sopping green backpack. Soaked bread, a bunch of damp roots, a couple of beef strips from a while ago, my canteen of water that's still about half-full, and my knives. I decide to keep the boomerang in one of my belt loops, mainly because I feel good with a weapon on hand, ready to jump up and fight at a second's notice.

First off, though, I need somewhere to get dry. It's raining buckets, and I'm already soaked through. The extra jacket that I got from my backpack is waterproof, which is a plus, but I start shivering anyway. And I know enough from personal experience that shivering is never a good thing.

Unless maybe if you're shivering in a good way, if that ever happens.

What I'm really looking for is another cave, that would be nice. Caves supply shelter, and they keep away the wind, which is just starting to pick up. But I'm in the big green leafy part of the forest. You would think, too, that the forest trees would block out some of the rain, but oohhhh noooo. The Gamemakers must be intent on soaking me until you could ring me out.

You kind of already can, honestly.

After about an hour of getting soaked through, I give up. I slouch against a tree, then lay down on my stomach, water running down my face, a mixture of cold rain and salty frustrated tears.

What? I cry when I'm frustrated, okay?

And finally, I stand up again, not even caring that every inch of my body is covered in mud, including my face and hair.

Whatever, it should help me camouflage or something.

By the time I get around to finding some sort of shelter, it is almost getting dark. What I find is actually quite nice; it's a rather large underground cavern. The cavern is made of rock, but the roots of the trees decorate the ceiling. I think I'm near Cato and Clove's original camp, under some random wet grass. Now that Cato's on his own, who knows where he lives. Poor guy. Wait, did I just think that?

The rainstorm appears to be everywhere in this damn Arena, which is apparently full of secrets. Who knew that the Arena would have an underground cavern in it? Or actually, no, I know what this cavern is from.

The mines that blew up about a week ago.

Whatever. The cavern, no matter how it was created, is relatively dry, and I take off most of my clothes and lay on the rock floor, setting the wet things out to dry. I wring out my hair, and put the hair tie around my wrist.

I'll tie it back again in the morning.

I slip off to sleep again, not wanting to have to wake up in this dreaded Arena again.


	20. Chapter 20

**I can't believe I'm on Chapter Twenty. Gawsh, my baby story is growing up so fast! Actually, you know what, it really isn't fast. It's actually slow. I had to rewrite this like 4 times because it sounded bad, and I still don't like it.**

**I can't believe I could write this.**

**THIS IS A SENTIMENTAL CHAPTER ZOMG CORBIN WROTE THIS LOL HE SOUNDS LIKE A GIRL!**

**-Love, **

**Corbin's sister who was lurking on his computer ;D**

**^^^ I left this because I thought it was funny. Yep, my little sister (she's 14) came on my computer, since I left it open, and looked at all my files. She likes them, I think.**

The anthem hasn't even played when I wake up to the sound of a loud shout. I shoot up from the ground, knowing I probably only slept for about five minutes. Quickly, I crawl out of the cavern and take up a defensive stance. What I see, I know I can't unsee.

Thresh. There he is, his dark skin drenched with rain and sweat and blood, fighting off Cato. Worse, it looks like Cato is winning the fight. Thresh is holding a backpack on his back, but I can see it's the one with the big number 2 on it, not 11. The 11 bag is behind Cato, and I can see Thresh looking at it. It must hold something that could be used in this fight.

Cato is armed with a sword, nothing more, and Thresh has nothing but a spear.

The District Two boy slashes at Thresh with his sword, and the District Eleven boy ducks, narrowly missing getting decapitated. Thresh thrusts at Cato's midriff, a killing blow if it hit, but Cato parries with ease. It's obvious that Cato has been doing this far longer than Thresh has.

Each boy has small injuries, an arm scraped here, a shoulder nicked there, but nothing will stop them but death.

After doing the deadly dance for about five minutes longer, Thresh catches Cato with a real blow. It's on his arm, a deep cut with the rough spear. Cato grits his teeth and puts his sword in his left hand.

And here I thought Cato was done for.

All I can do now is stand and open my mouth in surprise. I must look like some sort of wet, muddy goddess, standing up on the cliff overlooking the grain field, dripping rainwater and mud everywhere, my red halo of curls flying out from my face and sticking out at odd angles.

Thresh sees me, and lets out a little choke of surprise.

"Foxie!" he says, looking at me for just a moment.

But a moment is all it takes. Cato jumps at Thresh and catches him in the side. Immediately, he starts to bleed. Cato laughs, seeing his enemy wounded, but stops smirking when a boomerang catches him in the thigh. It's my turn to smile. I didn't cut deep, but I was pretty accurate. Cato's knee immediately locks, and he almost falls to the ground. He still has his arrogance in him enough to give me the finger and run as fast as he can with his injured leg into the forest.

"Foxie!" Thresh calls to me again. I run over to him. He's badly hurt, but not badly enough that he should die if I don't take care of him.

"Thresh." I say.

Thresh smiles at me, looking like a sentimental old man. "I love you, Amber." He tells me, sighing. I barely register the fact in my racing mind that he called me Amber for the first time.

It's time to make the biggest decision of my life. Save him, or leave him?

I make the choice.

"I love you too, Thresh." I say, and then whip out one of the knives I've carried for this entire Games, and plunge it into his muscular chest.

Thresh gives a gasp of pain, and I see one thing in his eyes as the life is leaving him.

Betrayal.

And then he goes cold.

I can't stop the tears leaking down my face. I killed him. The boy I love. What kind of person am I?

It takes everything I have to stagger back into the cavern and fall into a fitful, yet sedated, sleep.

That stupid freaking anthem, it always wakes me up. I crawl to the edge of the cavern and glance upwards. There's just one face in the sky tonight.

But I know that face all too well, have felt it against my own, have watched it as I ended its life.

Thresh.

I topple backwards down into the cavern with a little squeak and put my head between my knees. It's still raining outside, but Thresh's face is clearly visible, shining above the four of us who have outlasted the other twenty tributes. I can't help but begin to cry. It isn't as if I didn't know he was already dead, but this feels like I'm really accepting the fact that he died. Thresh was… What? He was everything to me in this Arena. He was an ally, a helper, a life-saver, a friend, a brother, a boyfriend.

A brother and a boyfriend… Now that sounds sick, doesn't it? But it's not like that. Thresh represented everything that I had in this Arena, and more. I never had that older brother, Christopher just didn't cover it. Thresh made up for that. He also replaced Jesse for a time.

Not to mention that he saved my life. And I ended his.

Now the walls of this cavern are pressing in on me. I'm vaguely aware of myself squirming out of the stone walls and sitting on the soft, muddy ground.

I can take another bath tomorrow, anyway.

There are only four of us left: Cato, Fire Girl, Lover Boy, and me. I've lasted pretty far, especially only killing two people, that one kid at the Bloodbath, and Thresh. I might be partially responsible for that crippled boy's death a while ago, from throwing my shoe at his head so Cato could kill him. But hey, I've survived for a while with a pretty clean record.

Of course, to win, I'll probably have to do a lot more killing. I think Cato is the most immediate danger, but maybe I can hope that Fire Girl will take care of him. No, I can't forget about Lover Boy, because Fire Girl probably got medicine for him at the feast.

What was up with him, anyway?

Hmm. I don't really care, but I wish that he was just dead.

Isn't that creepy? A month ago, I would never have wished that boy dead. I don't even know his real name, and I wish he was already dead.

This is just depressing. Sitting up, I pull my fingers softly through my hair and let the half curls hang down around my face. I breathe in the scent of my hair. It smells like… fresh rain, and grass with mud, and evergreen trees. I smell like the Arena. A pretty nice scent, altogether, but it makes my stomach squirm. If I get out of here alive, the first thing I'll do is take a nice hot shower.

I stand up again, and run my hands slowly through my hair, making an order of the knots that have tangled into my hair over time in this Hell.

Looking into the green backpack, I'm suddenly aware of the fact that I'm really low on food. Sure, it's the middle of the night, but I'm not tired. Thresh's death gave me a new source of energy, as if his dead body passed on its energy to my own. Now that just sounds creepy.

There are some footsteps behind me, and I turn, holding up my boomerang in a defensive stance. But it isn't Fire Girl, or Lover Boy, and it isn't Cato, creeping up on me. It's only Jesse, and he's come to comfort me.

"So." He says, looking at me sideways. "You're ally is dead."

I can't do anything but nod weakly.

"You killed him." Jesse says, face somber.

Starving, soaked, muddy, and partially crazy. That's me. Before, nobody would ever hear the name "Amber Kwanee" and think "_Oh, the crazy girl?"_ No, most people would hear my name and say "_Oh, the mutations girl who's socially awkward and doesn't get jokes?"_

Okay, so maybe I didn't have the best reputation, but it's better than being known as crazy.

"They didn't show you two on the TV much at home. It showed him saving your life, and then you killing him, but that's it." Jesse comments.

I nod again.

"Say something to me, Amber." He orders, but his voice is soft.

"I'm sad, Jesse." Is all I manage.

"It's the middle of the night."

Again, I nod. My head feels heavy. I've never felt this way before, not even when people I know have died. Jesse's dad, Christopher's wife, Tara's sister, the list of dead goes on and on, and now I can add my own people to it. Glimmer, the pretty girl from District One who had such a terrible ending to her life. Clove, the girl who, if I didn't win, I would have hoped she did. That boy from District Three who was killed so quickly in the arms of what he thought was an ally. Josh, that boy from Seven who died only on the first day. And most of all, Thresh, my only ally, the boy who I killed.

"I bet you're guilty."

Yet again, I nod.


	21. Chapter 21

**I hope you're happy that I came through with this second-to-last chapter, because my life is really not taking a good turn right now. And Vccle10, if you're reading this, which I doubt, I'm sorry. And even if she isn't reading this, if YOU are reading this and you have an account, pm her and tell her that radio-dammit loves her. No joke, I want you to do it. This chapter is dedicated to her, and my lovely friend (she'll know who I'm talking about) who helped me through a tough time the other day.**

**And ommmmmg thanks lazy4ever for reviewing every chapter on my story, although it now looks like you're the only one who's ever reviewed…. lol. **

Jesse just looks at me. I refuse to make eye contact with him. I just want to be alone. I know I shouldn't be the sad one, I killed him. Thresh is dead because of me. I killed him.

"Amber?" He asks softly, furrowing his brow.

I close my eyes. Suddenly I feel very tired. My body's clock is way off, and I have no intentions to fix it. I'm in the final 4, and if I'm going to win, the Capitol can fix my internal clock. If not, well, what's the point of fixing my internal clock?

"You know I am pretty mad, right?"

I ignore him.

"I mean, I'm like trying my best to be nice to you while you're in the Hunger Games, but you're turning into a whore."

My face gets red, but I ignore him.

"Fine, ignore me, but I know you can hear."

I lay down on the ground, resting my head on the soft grass. Then, I get an idea. Thresh's body is probably already been picked up by a hovercraft, since he died more than 2 hours ago, but there's still something I can do to honour him. He deserves it, anyway.

Forcing myself to go to the place that he died is the hardest.

There's nothing here but grass, it's not as if there was going to be a dead body or a huge neon sign that says "THRESH DIED HERE" in the ground. There's nothing, and that's what makes me want to honour him.

I'm looking around for something to create a tombstone when a figure darts out of the woods and towards me. At first, I think it is Jesse, but he's right next to me. I look at him, and he looks back at me, shrugging.

We both squint at the figure. I stand up, pulling Jesse along with me, when I realize who it is. Cato! What is he doing out here? Cato is running towards me, and there's the unmistakeable glint of a sword in his hand. I can't move, I'm frozen to the spot, unable to make my legs move to run away.

Cato is close enough to talk to me, and an evil snarl traces his lips.

"Want to try your boomerang again, Fox Girl?" he asks, holding up the large sword in his hand. I gulp. This is not going to end well.

And plus, Fox Girl? Really? That's the best nickname Cato, an eighteen year old boy who has been training in the art of survival since he was young, can come up with? Can't anybody just call me Amber? Thresh called me Foxie, Cato here came up with Fox Girl, and who knows what Fire Girl and Lover Boy call me. Foxalicious? The Fox? The possibilities are endless.

"Well?" Cato says, fingering the edge of his rapier with a smile on his face. He knows he's got me now.

I calculate every possibility of what I can do next, knowing that my next move could very well cost me my life. Not to mention that I'm sure that Cato and I are being featured on live television right now. I wonder where my friends are, if they're watching their TV avidly, or ignoring it, now that it's clear that I've gone crazy. Have I? It doesn't matter if I'm about to die.

But I won't die, I can't, that's impossible. There's so much I have to live for. Jesse, my friends, the spirits of the dead that I've lost. Thresh, Josh, Tommy, I have to win for all of them. So I can't die.

I draw my knife.

"So you're going down with a fight, neh?" Cato asks with a smile. His short hair is the colour of hazelnuts, and his eyes are dark and cold. His smile is more like a shark than a person, menacing and creepy. I want to scream like a little girl and run away, but I know I can't. Although I might be faster, Cato probably has a lot more endurance than I do. That's my downfall, endurance. I remember at school, how it didn't matter what path you took, you had to do PE. We'd always have to run a timed mile, and I never got below 8 minutes.

"I'm not going down, period." I say, narrowing my eyes. I get a firm grip on my knife.

Cato lowers his sword, holding the bottom of the hilt and putting the point in the soft dirt. "Really, is that it?" he asks, with a small bit of laughter. "You know, you aren't ugly. I might have dated you, if you lived in District Two with me. But you're just a little too small, and I hear you're taken." He nods towards the ring on my finger.

I just glare at him.

"Not one for talking? Okay, would you prefer to get killed slowly or quickly?" He runs a hand through his spikey brown hair, probably attempting to be sexy or something. It's not working.

"What about yourself?" I say, raising my eyebrows as if I'm asking his favourite colour.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm going to pretend as if I do." He replies.

I have just enough time to manage a smirk when he lunges.

The original clash of his gleaming blade to my shorter dull one is music to my ears. This metallic clang is the sound I've been waiting for in this Arena for a very long time. I'm vaguely aware of Jesse sighing and disappearing into the bushes. He doesn't want to see me die, but he doesn't have to worry.

I smile a little at his blade, and lean in to grasp the hilt of his sword. He makes a wild punch at my face, and it connects. I've never been punched before, and this is so painful. I want to grab my face and roll on the ground, crying, but I know that that will be the death of me. As well as me dying, that would be the biggest loss of pride to me ever. Not only Cato would see me at my worst, but the entire nation would, as well. I'm pretty sure that Panem has already seen me at my very worst, talking to people that aren't there. I think that I have enough pride left to lose what's left, though.

So I take the punch with a little squeal and grab his sword hilt. I shake it, but Cato's grip is like iron, he won't let go.

"Nice try, girlie, but I'm bigger than you." Cato snarls, lifting his lips back from his teeth in a curled fashion, like a big cat about to catch its prey. I do not like this situation, because it is rather obvious that I'm the prey and Cato's the cat. An absurd picture of Cato with whiskers and a tail pops into my head, and I laugh, a high pitched wail that sounds as crazy as I've been for the past couple of days.

Cato stops for a moment, pausing just enough to look confused. I stop for a moment too, but that's just because I'm doubling over in crazy laughter.

"AGHAFLAHGASHGAHFAIOghJFAF!" I laugh, putting my hands on my knees.

Cato just stands there, too confused to do anything, while I get a grip on myself. After what seems like hours, I get up with only a couple giggles and ask, "Where were we again?"

"Right here." Cato snarls, pressing the point of his sword on my chest.


	22. Chapter 22

**Heyyyyy guys. Sorry, it's been forever, but this story is almost finished. I'm going to be doing a last chapter focusing on Jesse's POV about how Amber died.. *SPOILER ALERT* lol. So, this chapter was hard to write, mainly because I couldn't think of a good way for the ending to be. Like, what is the lat thing she does? Anyway, here is the thoroughly edited last moments of Amber Kwanee:**

I gulp, and try to wriggle away. But alas, I cannot. Cato presses the tip of his sword harder in to my chest, and I can't help but cry out. The rain pours down still, soaking Cato and me both through to the bone. My clothes hang on me, completely soaked. My hair hangs in strands around my face, the ponytail slicking to the back of my neck. Cato isn't much better. His hazelnut colored hair has turned a dark cocoa color, and it is plastered to his forehead as if somebody superglued it onto his scalp.

Is this the end? Will I meet my doom at the fate of an eighteen year old boy running me through with his sword? Somehow, this seems as if it is one of the worst ways to die. Much more painful than, say, dying peacefully in your sleep. I've always been afraid of death, knowing that being strangled or burning to death would be the very worst. But I think that being stuck with the sharp point of a sword is up there, as well.

One thrust, that's all it could take. Who knows how many people Cato has killed in this Arena so far?

One thrust. My life is about to end. There's nothing I can do.

Well, maybe _one_ thing, but it doesn't sound like the best option. His arms, one on the sword and the other holding my left arm steady, do not support any way of running away. Only my face can move at all.

Which is exactly why I bite him.

I bite down on his arm hard, straining my jaw so much that I hear a sharp pain. I hear Cato catch his breath, but not make a sound. I clench my jaw harder.

He lets go of me.

I twist well out of his grasp, and run away. I don't stay to try and fight, but count on his being bitten to make his reactions slower.

His reactions are indeed slower, but they were extremely fast to begin with, so soon I hear feet pounding behind me in the forest. I try to make my path hard to follow, with lots of things to duck under and jump over. I know that I'm more nimble than big, muscled, Cato, so I make the path for the quick fox, not the strong bear.

As if on cue, I hear Cato trip and curse.

I can see nothing but trees in my limited view. Some people say fear has a taste in your mouth, and panic just makes it worse. But in my body, at least, it isn't the mouth that tastes fear. It's my chest that feels it. I feel my heart constrict, like it's curling up into the fetal position in order to hide from whatever I'm afraid of. I've considered that I've panicked before, on the first day of school, my first date, that one time when I dyed my hair blue for a month and was afraid to see what my mother would think of it, but the truth is, I was wrong. I've never panicked before, and I doubt you have either.

There's a big difference between panic and fear. You can have fear, or be afraid, which is when you don't want to do something because you don't want to face the consequences. You can be very afraid, which is what most people take for panic. But the only time I've ever felt panic is now. Crashing through trees, Cato in hot pursuit, knowing that my lungs will give out eventually. If this were gym class, I'd probably be bending over and panting about now. But now, I'm high on adrenaline. There's nothing like a bloodthirsty eighteen year old to make you run.

The air smells like old rainforest and mildew, as well as a hint of cinnamon, for some reason. It smells like houses in District Five around the holidays. Most of the houses smell like wood, instead of the metallic clanging taste that sticks inside your nose of the city. It's a tradition of the district to bake cinnamon in your ovens around the holidays, to make the District smell better.

I remember when I was about four, my farthest back memory, when I was running through the streets, my small feet pattering on the cobblestones, laughing through the streets with Christopher, my brother, chasing after me. He was around seven or so, and trying to catch me. He yelled "Amber! Come back!" And cracking up while he tried to run.

He was still a boring hardass at seven years old, I know.

Finally, I stumble up to the river. The water rushes around my ankles, buzzing them like I injected a bunch of expresso into them. I hear Cato rustle some of the trees in the forest just before I dive into one of the openings between the boulders bordering the river.

I try to stay still and quiet, doing my best to silence my heavy breathing from running so long. I move to the very back of the rock alcove, pressing my soaked back to the cool rock.

I hear Cato spluttering in the distance, eventually giving up. I allow myself a sigh of relief before venturing out of the cave a few minutes later. I stumble in the stream, my legs shaking like leaves.

See, it's actually not the fear of Cato that was causing me to shake. Overworking yourself physically does that to you. If you run too much, you get so tired afterward that you shake and can barely stand.

This is about what it feels like now.

I'm starved. Completely starved. My stomach is cramping up, and I know I need to find some food.

But there's nothing, nothing to eat.

I can do nothing but stumble back into the original outcropping of rocks and pass out.

When I wake up, the first thing that I notice is the hunger. It gnaws at my stomach, a starving animal. I gotta go get myself some food today, or I won't be able to stand it.

The next thing I notice is the thirst. That should be easily cured, seeing as I am laying in an alcove right next to a river. I lurch towards said river, and then I notice the third thing.

The third thing I notice is a blinding headache that shoots through my brain and leaves me crumpled on the ground.

When I get up, I think about the possibilities. It could just be that I hit my head on a rock last night, when I passed out.

Wait, I passed out. That really can't be good. It could also be that I have a concussion, which would not be good, but maybe it's alright.

I guess the only thing to do is to last.

As I drink water from the river, I try to clutch my pounding head. Maybe food will…. What? What will food do? Help, that's it. Food will help.

I hear voices.

At first I think they're just in my head, but they're coming from a certain place in the forest, and I've heard these voices before.

Fire Girl and Lover Boy.

I melt into the trees as I watch them pass me. Lover Boy is making the noise of a thousand bulls, and Fire Girl is getting angry about it. Finally, she tells him to just go and gather things.

She leaves, leaving me hiding in the bushes with Lover Boy right in front of me.

Lover Boy unwraps a pile of something- Is that GOAT CHEESE?- and puts it on the ground.

Food, that's food….

Then, he goes and looks for some things to eat, picking berries and putting them one by one on a square of plastic he must have gotten somewhere. Lover Boy walks off to go gather some other crap.

I lick my chops. Food is so close to me right now. And, anyway, it isn't as if Lover Boy can put up much of a fight. I can see him hobbling even from this distance.

Time to be a fox again.

I slink slowly over to Lover Boy's stash of berries and cheese, and take a little of each. Not too much so that they'll think a person instead of an animal took it, but enough for me to continue on living through these Games.

I eat the cheese first. Delicious, wonderful tang explodes on my tongue. I close my eyes in bliss.

All too soon, it's over. Time for the berries.

They look along the lines of blueberries, so I'm guessing they're safe to eat. Besides, Lover Boy was about to eat them, so they probably aren't poisonous.

I put a couple in my mouth, chew a little of the berry. I was right, it tastes like a blueberry. I swallow.

Commotion on the other side of the bushes, Fire Girl is back.

"I got berries," Lover Boy says.

"No." Fire Girl replies, just as a searing, red hot pain shoots through my stomach. "Not these. Never these."

What?

I fall to the ground, the pain in my stomach is too much to bear. I curl to a fetal position, rubbing the ring on my finger as well as the small necklace that Thresh gave me.

Suddenly, in my head, I see a picture of Jesse, standing with his arms crossed. _Don't you dare die now, Amber, _he shouts, _You've gotta last until you're the only one left!_

I shake my head, trying to get the image out of my mind. I know that I won't live, there's no way those berries weren't horribly poisonous. And even if the berries don't kill me, whatever is wrong with my head will.

The few seconds I have left are precious, so I savor them.

I will never see Jesse again. When I'm alive, at least. Lover Boy tricked me. I hope that Fire Girl kills him in his sleep, then goes out on a killing spree, but Cato tortures her and finishes her off.

He's the best to win.

I'm adding myself to the toll of the dead that rings in my mind.

Thresh.

Josh.

Tommy.

Clove.

Riley.

The list is too long to count. I'm going out now, my world is fading to black.

"Jesse," I whisper softly.

I see him in my mind's eye again, this time a memory. We're lying in the closest thing District Five has to a meadow, a small ring of grass that they call the city park. Jesse is sitting crosslegged, with my head in his lap. My eyes are closed, but I can see everything, for some reason. The blooming flowers that people put in community service to plant, Jesse's long fingers as they twirl through my hair, people walking by and smiling at the young couple in the park. It's a great memory, so I decide to keep it in my mind until the very end.

I embrace death clutching everything dear to me.

**And thus ends the tale of Amber Kwanee. I want to thank everybody who has reviewed this story, and/or put it on their favorite stories list, because that means a lot to me. There will be one final installment to this story, which will be in Jesse's POV. But that is more of an epilogue than anything else.**

**Writing this story was awesome. It was my first fanfiction, and I've learned a lot from it. I want to again, thank everybody who has read it, reviewed it, and/or added it to their favorite stories list. :D**


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